He would stay
the course
especially without a mother.
He would stay
until they
went to another
place.
He stayed
and eventually
they went.
And then he would
visit them in their new place
and with the new
ones of theirs
in their space.
It was strange.
He had been father and they
son and daughter
and he kept
thinking that way,
locked in an old paradigm.
“Brother, could you
spare a dime,
for me to figure out
a new paradigm?”
They broke out
and grew up and
became adults and
looked another way.
Would they, could they
become friends and fraternal lovers
or linger in the netherworld
of not knowing who
they were with each other?
Did he even want to
go another way
or just nurse old wounds
and stay
stuck?
“Brother, Here’s your dime.
I can’t find a new paradigm.”
But what choice did he have?
Could his love
transform from
parental to filial?
Had there been
too much water under the
bridge proverbial
or over the dam? Damn.
Had there been too much
stuff in the old place
cluttering new space?
Only time would tell,
and a lot more than
a little grace.