Dig in your 	      brother,
	       marsh,
and show us what you’ve found

I’ll make my                                      glowing
	         home where I find sun,
with confectioner’s sugar
I find him somewhere                       where he pushes
                                    in the swamp,
through the mud, squirting uncomfortable, irresistible
He says he found             nothing to do with me,
		     a map,
I reminisce with him of when I taught him to                 tarnish
                                                                        drink beer,
I ask him if he ever believed in the Bible
                if the ground he stands on is my home

‘Fuck you’
I was just            dealing
                saying
Deal with your own,              your own
		         he says,

Wavy hair                                                 fading
                  beneath the gallons, alligators           under
One takes a bite of my brother’s calf,
only blood

you’ll find nothing there                                 to make wet
                                        but new dry ground 
                                                                         rushing waters
the sun still bounces
off the surface, and doesn’t absorb          like shrapnel,
                                                        to die
‘We’ll see’
                  covered in mud 
                                           face down caked and grey
heat of midday 
a treasure, a treasure, a              treasure
			  fucking

Fall into the marsh in line,                  next to your coffinmate
                                           lay down,
waiting on you
wading on you

Where dig, brother?
          			          why, brother?