SOMEBODY'S GONNA DIE

first in this race
pitting me against
my brother.
I saw him yesterday
& it seems like
he's winning; he got fat,
sluggish, lumbering,
winded, stuggling
for air on his flight
up a starecase to see me.
For so many reasons
I can't let that happen:
who would I talk to,
laugh with,
get angry at,
believe I'm better than?
And
I never did him any favors
turning him onto dope
when I was young
& he was younger.

Seventeen years ago
I got clean
while he kept at it,
wanting to do more research
on addiction
& dependence
& being dead
while breathing.
And now
I merely have
diabetes,
congestive heart failure,
& COPD
emphysema
which puts me
at a disadvantage.
We had learned
that in our family
sickness was lauded;
the prize
was attention;
you did less
with more;
the dream was extended,
the womb elongated,
the warm float
endless.
Taking care of ourselves
only led
to taking care of others
and who really wants
to do that.

We narrowed our worlds
to only two,
racing each other
to the grave.

Stay tuned.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2019

MY BROTHER, THE VAMPIRE

He was good
at a lot of
things,
but he was
the best
at sucking
the blood
of anyone
he crossed paths with
until they withered
& snapped
like brittle twigs.

suck suck
sucksucksuck
and suck
some more.

Now
he has no teeth
to speak of,
& two kidneys
about to quit
on him. They
were given him
by the master
of death: dope.

Like all good vampires
he had his reasons.

He will get up
tomorrow morning
& go to a methadone mill
to drink his two hundred & twenty mgs
of madness as sick & slow & slovenly
as he is.

I gotta give him this:
if nothing else
he's a professional.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017