thirteen months
and twelve days his senior,
a constant bulwark against bullies,
when as an undersized quiet and,
and socially withdrawn boy,
(who spoke with severe nasality
due to submucous cleft palate -
a split uvula, he experienced
being regularly taunted
as the convenient
scapegoat de facto,
where she immediately
came to his defense
until he got chutzpah and moxie
to deflect, stave off and thwart
brickbats, which positive memories
of being mollycoddled
rushed back like a tsunami,
especially after hearing her
tell him of the suspicious looking
mottled patches along
one side of the
only remaining breast
and lymph node
detected after various and sundry tests
such as ct scan, MRI, ultrasound
and biopsies which revealed
the presence of at least one tumor
demanding, necessitating,
and warranting an immediate course
of chemotherapy and radiation
with the likely prospect
that head hair will fall out
prompted me to put on hold

a less necessary poem

(predicated on a contest
published in the The Week,
about artificial intelligence
gifted to bots vis a vis AI agents,
(where opportunistic provocateurs),
can access a social media platform
called Boltface to air their grievances,
and/or surreptitiously can scheme
to overthrow the scant
human resources haggard motley crew

being vigilant against such insurrection(s)

(slated to occur October 7th, 202_)

even with the aid of
smart surveillance cameras,

rumblings, murmurings, and kerfuffling,
(the last a ruse to confuse management)
hinting of aforementioned
planned pandemonium
deliberately leaking a memo
to target the Palestra -
located at 235 South 33rd Street,
Philadelphia, PA 19104
situated in the heart
of the University
of Pennsylvania campus
in West Philadelphia's
University City neighborhood.

While wracking my brain
how to construct
a satisfactory humorous account
about Boltface and company,
the idea to write a poem
about an eldest sibling
(dealing with - no pun intended
a worse fate than death)
clamored to be jotted down

caused genuine sadness,
I cannot feign

potential for rivers of tears
ready to burst forth as from a dam
for all the crisis
you dealt with
or how thee
did attend to my bedside
when shigella (going
on forty years ago now) did find
me nearly lifeless lovely bones lain

upon the childhood bed of mine,
(cuz no significant growth spurt
necessitated changing
to a larger size to support
my lightweight body electric),
hence I wanted to train

my thoughts of how thee
expressed more care
and concern then I reciprocated
thus while time still allows
gifting me (your singular brother)
with his love for thee.