Time Just Slips Away

We burned my little brother yesterday.

It was almost appropriate

that he went up that chimney

after all those hookey fags.

That was what killed him,

(the smoking, not the burning).

We gave him a good send off.

He would have enjoyed it,

the silly song at the funeral,

the words that were said,

the flowers and the tears shed,

the happysad smiles,

and the fact that so many people came

to say goodbye,

people I didn’t know,

people who knew him well,

people he had known without me.

It dawned on me then,

half cut and crying, too late, too late,

crying because I didn’t get the words out,

not soon enough,

not while he could hear me,

crying for myself as much as him,

because I didn’t tell him that I loved him,

while he was still here to hear me,

crying because, there, in amongst the family,

with all his lovers and his friends,

all his memories and mementos,

standing, looking at his photographs,

at his warm and friendly smile,

it dawned on me

that I didn’t know my little brother.

I didn’t know him enough.