I was third, he was fourth
of six kids. Mom said he was 
her most beautiful baby.

Sandwiched between first-born 
twins and beautiful younger 
brother, I struggled

as then the only girl. 
But little brother was my friend,
ally against the united

power of twins. I helped
him learn to read, to build
Iroquois longhouses

for a school project, typed
his high school papers 
even after I left for college.

When he moved to Texas,
we still could talk, though 
we avoided certain subjects.  

Gradually, then quickly, it all 
went wrong. Three deaths,
two wills, one election

drew battle lines between us.
He unfriended, ghosted,
left us with no explanation.

I miss the round-cheeked, 
curly haired boy 
who used to be my little brother.