Apastron (Cain and Abel)

I found my brother’s body. 

No one else thought to look. 

To call him mangled would be 

an understatement: 

razors had lacerated the arterial strings of his vessels;

the sky-black shades of his hair shifted into auburn;

the carob of his irises (the same as mine) swirled

with a milky gray (galaxy). 

And I knew I 

knew I knew 

that medical staples would not clamp his limbs back to his torso.

A seamstress could not sew his skin into layers. 

I shook him, but he did not stir. 

He would never wake again.

My mother beat her chest when the news 

reached her ears (Who could be so cruel?) 

My father held his head in his hands, body bent and

crumpled like discarded paper. (He’s gone.) 

Our family will remember his absence, but not what came after:

the paperwork, interviews, and condolences. 

Where were you last Saturday? (I was at home, waiting.

The midnight shimmered in a paraselene.) 

When did you last see the deceased? 

(I saw him every day. His pictures filled our halls antemortem,

and we prayed for his success every morning.) 

How did you meet the deceased? (He was my brother.)

If I was the one who did it, I know 

I know I know 

how quickly I could get away, 

He liked to keep his room clean and traceless, 

and he took a solemn jog when the sun rose. 

At night, he went to old observatories 

and pointed at the endless void. 

When I was small, he showed me how to find a parallax.

He snickered if I blurred the telescope’s lens,

but I could never see what he saw. 

I could not detect the chromosphere without his help.

Everyone loved him. 

I think I think 

I loved him, too.

Blood shines like skin when it’s dark outside.

We scattered his ashes at dusk. 

The dust of his corpse twisted in a halo—a cluster.

If an astronomer squinted up into the sky, 

he might smile at what he found. 

There would be no difference between the soot and stars.

Good night. Sweet dreams. 

I am all that remains of him.

---

Gayeng Makinang grew up amongst the rolling hills of San Antonio, Texas, and recently graduated with a degree in Integrative Biology at the more extensively hilly University of California, Berkeley. Their forthcoming novels are represented by Eloy Bleifuss Prados at Neon Literary. You can find them on Instagram @piaxov.