Brother

My reluctant brother -
grey suited hair
and that scar
beating on your lip
like an unfortunate rhyme -
long have I thought of you.
Your pockets are shallow wastrels
and in the crisp folds
of your trousers,
I find that time
is a leper -
an ill-fated star
that pocks this dream witted night
and turns my tears
to sober music.
For I have found your hopes
a hollow thing -
your promises a cold frost
for my supper
and all your pretty words
the still birth of my misfortune.