Artwork by Danette Bremer

Echoes engulf the man
at the bar writing his letter.
His habits sing into themselves.
His fears weave a fugue.

Maybe she would have liked you
if you were nice and happy.

Scratching paper, glad to be oblivious.

There are no such women.

He continues, though, writing hard
in a bar where you are in no way
your brother's keeper:

"We have failed to love, you and I.
And, worse, we have failed
to garner any spoils from our attempt."

As always, the crying can wait.

"I know that the cost being marked in my heart
may be more than I can pay.
But I will not sign the treaty you have in mind."