i’ve only been to the lake
a few times since
my brother drew died
but i have often wondered
if he is still there
skiing through the narrows
like he always did
a single step off
the wooden platform
at the back of
the ski nautique
barefoot
with one leg crossed
over the other
as though he were sitting
in his own church pew
in his own cathedral
holding the rope handle
in the crook of his elbow
cigarette in one hand
and a miller high life in the other

if you’re not out there
on the water now brother
i hope heaven is as good
as the lake would have been