Uncle says he loves you.
Holds it together for you
in spite of his tornado brains.
Reaches out to pull you off
the diminishment track
ahead of the demolishing train.
Go to your dream space, he tells you. 
I can’t save you but you’ll be safe there.
I have to stay here by the track 
and play bait and bail out songs
to bring the train down to a crawl
that could still kill but you should be able
to get out of the way with only mangled limbs.
This is what Uncle does. He was
never father but was a son, a brother
of sorts at some point, knows
what he expected and never got. Can’t
do it all but has wrestled blue dragons, 
black dogs, and accountants in charge of 
finding you deficient; has beaten back fire,
thrust his arm into snapping jaws, paid debts
all for you. Uncle loves you,
asks nothing more in return than you
bring your own fullness to battle
and be what he wasn’t. Be one thing
he wasn’t and call the account square.
Be more than that and call it paid
with interest.  Be all you can
and take the overpay back,
slay new dragons, tame new dogs,
and even if you don’t
recall Uncle 
forever after
it will be more than enough.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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