Last Butt Dial
The last "conversation" with my brother
So you
To end on a joke
You couldn’t have planned
Better if you tried
Last visit
Digging through storage
To give you some things
You needed more than I
So hot
Your face was flushed red
I begged you to sit
And on me to count
You scoffed
Did what you wanted
You'd already lost
Way too much ground
Age forty
A hip replacement
They fucked you over
Had to use a cane
So cruel
It just broke you down
You deserved better
Than all of that pain
Spiraled
Into so much more
But so much less
At the same time
Suffered
Endlessly hurting
Vices long dropped
Became your lifeline
No blame
You had it so rough
Life wasn’t going
Well for you at all
You tried
And never once stopped
To be the man
And to still stand tall
That day
I couldn’t stop you
From lifting too much
And working too hard
Bull head
And full of your pride
You couldn’t leave it
Had to do “your part”
Evening
You headed back home
As I pulled out
From the parking lot
Phone rang
It was you again
Answered thinking
Something you’d forgot
Butt dial
A silly mistake
We all giggled
Of course, you did too
Last time
I heard your voice
Should’ve talked longer
Our moments too few
What I
Would give now
To hear your voice
Once more in this life
One more
Silly butt dial
But never again
It cuts like a knife
Brother
Can you still hear me?
Do you know
How adrift I’ve been?
Can’t find
Another like you
You were and still are
My very best friend
Author's Note:
I wrote this about my brother, funny, proud, and too young when he left us. He never left without doing “his part.” This was the last time I heard his voice. Just a butt dial. I didn’t know it then. You never do. — Liora
voice through fire | www.liorawrites.com
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