Brother
(reprinted from Invisible Matter, available from vbanderson@verizon.net)

He puts his dukes up,
says to the world,
“Try. Come on.
I dare you.” The world slugs him; he
slugs back.

When you’re losing the battle,
you want him on your side.

He saves the ranch from the rustlers, the
town from the crooks.

When it’s a fight to the last man, he is
the last man.

He’s a doer.
While I’m looking for poems, he has the
coffee going, the walls of the house up,
the roof nailed down.
He’s a healer, pulls me onto dry land
when I’m drowning.

I’m the mother of flower children.
I’m still wandering
in the garden.
He’s at the punching bag