Naked on Cashmere

He was a brotherI never had,different than the others,and he carried in his eyesand on his armsthe tattoosand scarsof being famous young,he wore the faceof a starbut all I sawwas a poetdrowningin someone else’s dreamswho wished onlyto sinkinto the quiet seaor fadeinto any painted wall of Brooklyn.xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com