He lies in sheet-blue shadows, barely moving,
not always remembering,
to swallow his small aloof pills,
white, yellow, pale green and gray.

He’s glad we came, but keeps his eyes closed,
as I gather him into my eyes,
and try to understand that he’s my brother,
my brother as before, as always.

He seems so far away he could be anyone—
a native hunter, alone in a bleak land
crouching by an icy river,
severed bear paws with curved black claws

beside him, sticky with blood,
his sharp knife cutting raw meat,
taking it to his tongue—
the whole earth as wild and brutal as always,

smashing into our eyes
when the night nurse comes
with her fierce blond hair and long white teeth—
and turns on the light.