Fractional

The algorithm has a cruel sense of math,

digging up ghosts in the 'People You Know.'

I found you standing on a gravel path

with a kid on your shoulders, watching a show.

Your jaw is a mirror. The way you stand tall

is a trick of the blood that we both had to take.

I remember the park and the bounce of the ball

before the house split like a dry, yellow cake.

I looked at your face until my eyes started burning.

You have that same squint, that shield from the sun.

It’s a strange kind of hunger, a hollowed-out yearning

for a brotherly life that was never begun.