i called my brother a fag and he ended it all at fifteen he was peeled from the shiny red snow fully nude with his dick in his hand a busy young priest said a prayer between pistachios then gave a salty pink-silvery smile ain’t no cocksuckers in heaven i whispered as he stroked my cold hand in silence he blushed and moved on later in my brother’s room i found pantyhose and yearbooks with hearts around rosy-cheeked fairies i tried on the hose and pranced in the mirror then laughed till i puked on the floor i called him a pussy until he played ball just so the sides would be even i scored with my head buried deep in his chest and stood over him roaring while the tears began to well in his eyes at the time i wasn’t sure why he and i were different i’m not sure he was either but there in the rain as he reached for my hand for the first time we both knew it mattered at thirty i can smell him in my infant daughter’s hair