Portrait

When I feel it's
only sometimes
but when it's there
it's there

and if I'd done a better sweep
and the frame had not been shattered
and the wall had not been moving
and the wine had not been there

then this glass stuck in my heel
would not remind a heathen
that his brother deserves more
than a mess who drinks alone
when not smiling alongside him
for a camera and a man
who bore the both of us
twenty-some-odd years apart

so tonight I feel the shard
so tonight I suck the bottle
so tomorrow when the bombs ring
I'll know I'm still alive.