in my dream. I hold hands with my brother. we are both boys: he looks at me through his thick lashes. a squint. three years of time travel, between him and me. we are blue boys. he looks like my future, and I am his past. three years. time holds us together in summer and it’s always summer in my dream. my future and his past are nothing but a smudge. his free from worry glint of summer. always summer when I dream of him. we laugh. we blow up cowpat in dad’s village. a punch: a smudge is his free from worry glint as if graphite glides past his cheeks. look! how our laughter blooms, in dad’s punch. I stand by him, hold on to his soft hand. graphite draws wind blowing past our cheeks. I look at him—through our thick lashes— our shoulders barely touch, tiny hand in tiny hand. and there it is, where my brother’s stubborn heart beats. I look through him, behind his thick curtains of lashes. we are both boys for once: looking ahead. his stubborn heart laughs with mine. so loud. I wake up. and there! my brother is the moon: watching over me.

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