(for my brother)
I
with a
grunt of irritation you condescend to be interrupted and move your chair
back a bit so can i crawl under your desk (the one that dad built
special for you now that you're at university) so I can dust the
baseboards as is my job (I've already done the rest of your
room)
i'm quiet careful not
to disturb because it's hard stuff, important stuff you're doing (i'm
still only in high school
but you're at university
now it must be harder you're only getting 60s) i turn around in the
cramped space on my hands and knees and see your feet
i think about washing
them
i think about binding
them
II
the guidance counsellor
pauses and then discourages "philosophy's a very difficult field"
and thought (no, not then, later) i thought, she's telling the
kid who has the top marks in the school it's too difficult?
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