i will save time,
littlest brother.
i will wrap it up
and put it into a box
to mature,
like a rare cheese
only for you and me.

on the day
that you come to me
and want to know
what it was like
before mom left
because you won't remember,
i will open our box
and show you.

first i will take out
a lock of mom's blonde hair
that used to fall
down to her waist
and i will tell you
what it looked like
in the sunshine
while we made
daisy chains.
i will tell you
how it turned brown
later on
and how mom let me sit
on her bed
and twist, twist, twist
for hours,
because i didn't know how to braid.
and how me and Erika sat
in front of the space heater
and dried off
after a bath
mom crocheting
on the bed,
singing.

then i will remove from our box
a crisp, shriveled leaf
from the Big Tree
and i will let you smell it.
i will say,
this is what
home smells like...
never forget,
littlest brother.
i will sit you on my lap
and paint you pictures with my fingers
i will reveal to you little indian huts
and smoky firepits
and *****, chipped toes.

lastly
i will steal from time
and will take from our box,
what is rightfully ours
and i will give you
the last shred
that i have saved
for so long...
just for you, littlest brother.
i will give you mom and dad
together.
happy.
i will give you mom and dad
in their funky, attic-smelling bathing suits
mom's tummy protruding with another older sister for you
standing on the hot stones
dad's big, funny glasses
glinting in the sun,
a sun that shown down
on something whole
something perfect.
i will give you mom and dad
snuggled under a blanket
on the couch
watching a movie together
mom giving dad 'the look'
as he chuckles...

littlest brother,
i will do all i can
to create memories for you...
because everyone deserves to remember
something happy...
littlest brother,
i will steal from time
all i can
all for you...
until time decides to take back
what is rightfully his.

"you're depressed"
they say.
"you won't go to class
you won't eat
all you do
is sleep
you're depressed"
they say.
"i'm surrounded by failures"
he says.
dad, it's not my fault
i don't want to go
"i'll have to think about this all day"
he says.
me too
dad.
"i have psychological stuff wrong with me
from trying to deal
with all of this
the least you could do
is go to school"
he says.
i can feel the slam of the door
in my ears
"you're disrespecting me"
he says.
i told my bestfriend
that i'm not eating
not sleeping
or maybe sleeping too much
i told her
i blacked out
lost all sense
of hearing
seeing
feeling
fell down
"you're depressed"
they say.

oh yeah
sure
let's ask the traumatized kid
if she knows anyone in that stage of psychological life
the one where you
start questioning
whether or not you're happy
and you often make
rash decisions
oh yeah.
i do know someone
who's right in that spot.
can you describe it
for the class?
what the hell, sure.
...as i explain to everyone
that my mother left
because she was bored
i watch the words "oh ****"
etch themselves
onto my professor's face
yep.
i'm never getting called on
again.

cry all your make up off
before nine am
just because
you remembered
your littlest brother's
face.
nice job,
brain.

purple splotches
on my
cold arms,
wrists...
thick
red
unfeeling
scars
that never fade
i'm waiting for the day
they turn
white

you know,
i really don't need much to be happy
i don't get what the big deal is
give me a big tree
dirt
sunshine
a blanket
to lie on
a family
and i'd be set
why are the hardest things to get
also the easiest
and if they're so easy to get
why can't i have them
oh
frustration.

the bone-crushing
weight
of being late
for everything
is suffocating me
it's been two days
since i could breathe
normally
i'm not even kidding...
projects
undone
papers
unwritten
tests
not taken
money
owed...
you're going to lose
everything
but you've lost it before
you'll be
fine

if when you take
an afternoon stroll
in the fresh spring air
to the library
down the street
and you spend your time
not listening to the birds
or examining the new buds
but wishing that every car
that passed
would run you over
you probably
should rethink
a couple things

i didn't place the blame on you
gently
like a folded
napkin
i dropped it on you
like a boulder
why can't you just
take it
for once

the two amigos
standing through constant ****
since 2011
fell asleep
i on the couch
he in the armchair
trying to ward off
the oncoming
despair

i'm still debating
whether or not
to give my mother
all these poems.
i guess because
i know
how much it hurts
to be told
exactly how someone hates you
in verse