I envision my brother and me
at frolic once again
in the sweat-heat of New Orleans
across the cobblestones from our boyhood home,
splintered now by humid time,
its memories staring back!

White-tipped mockingbirds
tease and zip about;
impetuous as we were back then;
moms’ care flourished with her birds.

Inside,
the walls whisper dilapidation’s secrets;
spiders web above the doors.
Sounds of childhood rivalry,
long quite now, rustle still.
Warped windows invite streams of steamy light;
white sheets on the line.

Brother Bill
lived hard but, short
ignoring the raves of women, drink, cigars;
departed in the middle of our years
quite alone!

I was afraid
he wouldn’t be here this trip back;
fading memory lost on summer’s swelter
but,
I feel he is,
yes,
“Bill, I’m so glad you’re here!”



Jon Von Erb
6/2020