Bro/therLove
(for Kenneth Dalton Ferdinand & Keith Copelin Ferdinand)
my brothers & i used to fight each other
giving no quarter, striking where it hurts deepest
like raking a fork cross the soft vinyl grooves
of Sketches of Spain
i still have scars on my hand
from a knife slice, on the other hand
i saved my brother's life one night
by stilling his tongue as he fought
through an ashma/sinus seizure
as men we have all three gone our separate ways
though our paths continue to cross
& i see them sometimes looking & sounding
like inola in her efficient dignity
or ferdinand with his country wit of words
"the work ain't hard
& the boss ain't mean,
you ain't got nothing to complain abt"
each of us is who we are
& all of us are a little bit of each other
surprisingly sweet & not infrequently gentle
in our burly ninth ward blackness
catch us on those rare occasions when we are three
in one place & the circus might as well shut down
my brothers & i used to fight each other fiercely
& now matured in the afterglow of battle, we realize
that all three of us share the sacred crown
of hardwon brotherlove.
—kalamu ya salaam