BEE LB ( eulogy card

i take a name that was never mine and slot it between my brother’s.  like the door and the jamb, i am the knife slipped between to jimmy the lock.  i do not belong but at times i am the only way to open.  this is a sliver of hope i let melt on my tongue, unwashed. i am slipping out of myself but my body remains. his body is ash and he’s gone somewhere i can’t follow, despite— attempts— intentions— etc. i don’t remember when he taught me how to slip a lock. a knife or a card that no longer needs using. not a front door but a bedroom, not sealed only suggested. surely it was when my room was only the suggestion of a room, beams like the start of a cage, bed like the only safe place, dresser like the most beautiful thing, frosted glass like more than i deserved or knew how to keep. burnt toast and crumbs in the butter. the stairs he dragged me up. the stall shower, the cold floor. none of it matters but still feels significant. i took a name that was never mine and offered it like a gift to those that loved him. it will never belong to me and i’ll never be free of it and no one asked me to use it but i did, a sacrifice freely given. five days and then nothing— then freedom— then the hint of an end like something new could ever come.