To My Brother Miguel
(For Spanish translation click here)

In memoriam

Brother, today I sit on the stone bench by our home

where we miss you terribly!

I remember we used to play at this hour, and Mama

would hug us: “But, my sons . . . ”

Now I hide,

and as before, from all evening

prayers, and I trust you won’t give me away.

Through the parlor, the vestibule, the corridors.

Later, you hide, and I can’t find you.

I remember that we made each other cry,

brother, in that game.

Miguel, you hid yourself

one August night, just before dawn;

but, instead of laughing when you hid, you were sad.

And your twin heart of those now extinct

afternoons has grown weary of not finding you. And now

a shadow falls in the soul.

Listen, brother, don’t take so long

coming out. All right? Mama might worry.