number 40

food & thought
It was no accident at the bar that the dinner between the three of us was a sliced loaf of bread, a bit of oil and salt and we raised cold mugs of beer, clinking, and at some point laid things down on the table -- difficult things out of our shadows and things we couldn't explain and so much we'd rather not remember and in those moments blood was drawn, something thicker than blood even, spirits -- spirits were rent, and we shook on that and we sensed a brotherhood defining itself, taking shape and taking oath around that table and we walked away, my own heart pondering the implications of bonds that will go with us, beyond our deaths.

Bound
Share your shame and shoulder your
brother's: our trust demands trust.
We press on, a bloody band.