the brotherhood

men of the brotherhood
don’t speak
of troubles
we drink
to the silence
that swims amid the false din
raising our filthy glass
to those lovers
and, aye, those brothers
as well
remembered
and when another
of our kind
crosses the line
we don’t interfere
with the natural order
of things
unless
the beating
goes too far
hell, we didn’t make this
universe
what it is
but we understand
that, which it is
and we all know–
every last one of us
we’ve got something
coming to us
one day
most of us
knowing
since we’d first witnessed
god’s promise
blackened, and damned
retreating into the shadows
of our daddy’s eyes
tho still boys
at the time
hearing him exhale
our collective destiny
in wordless sighs

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