Richard Blanco’s Only Brother:
We carved an entire range of mountains
out of styrofoam block, covered their peaks
with sand for snow, the slopes with pines,
the valleys with fall maples and live oaks.
We made great rivers flow on the illusion
of tin foil crinkled and painted royal blue,
crossed them with mighty balsa bridges.
We placed townspeople where we wanted:
gazing into the shops, gathered at the chapel,
or waiting for the train, lapping obediently
under our command around the village
that took us six years to build, and one day,
in the backyard, we set it on fire, quietly
stood by the flames and let it all vanish.
