My brother is a box among boxes. His ranch
style house a shoebox, each vehicle he buys
are giant boxes, squared-off; his keyboard,
a box, his desktop computer, boxes stacked
on the square screen; gun safe, boxspring
mattress, toolbox in the kitchen a layered
pile of boxes containing smaller boxes. And
the dresser, beside a speakerbox larger than
a cigarbox guitar, a harmonica by a boxy tv;
past cube windowpanes, empty windowbox,
he mows a rectangle in grass, green boxcar
from google maps. Then he boxes his hands
around cubes of ice from the freezer icebox.
His dog, a boxer, watches from a square rug.
Clamor 
1 comment