Claire Scott

My Two Brothers 

His name was James &
           he stopped breathing
my mother barely spoke 
           of the brother before 
my sister & I lived in his gauzy shadow
            while our mother slugged gin
            waiting for another boy

When he arrived, she took our pictures off the walls
           my sister in a too-small Easter dress 
           me in a pumpkin costume that covered my eyes
put up the promised son
            who got his own piano
            who rode in the front seat 
            who got the biggest slice 
& went to the orchestra 
            with her on Friday afternoons 
while we stayed home 
            with our princess dolls
            poking out their eyes, 
            ripping off their legs

I wanted him to be a ghost like James
           when she walked past my room
           to read him Treasure Island
I wanted him to stop breathing
            when she sang “Some Enchanted Evening”
            holding him close

Now I no longer pray for him
            to join James in some pale paradise

I no longer hope he falls from a high ledge
            or contracts leprosy or is kidnapped
           by Long John Silver
how could I be jealous of a child   
           caught in the claws of caring