Shadow Messages
for Alison Prine
You sent me your poem
about the anniversary
of your brother’s suicide
on the anniversary of
my brother’s suicide.
You couldn’t have known
and maybe wouldn’t have
sent it if you had—
or maybe you did know
and didn’t know you knew,
your brother having somehow
let you know, in a way
you hardly noticed,
a movement of shadows
or rustling of leaves.
And maybe my brother
will give me a signal
(the call of a sparrow?)
letting me know
when to send this to you—
our brothers working
undercover,
sending us messages
on a frequency
unburdened by words.