The other brother

[Dave]

Another poem moved from NAPO for comment, this tie without edits:

The other brother

ghosted into a conversation at a party
my mother was having with a stranger

how many children do you have? 
four she replied without hesitation

four, one more than the three 
Michael, the boy who did not survive,

empty swaddling clothes on the shore
a basket on the Nile, the echo she hears

when the family gathers itself in laughter
and back-then stories and myths of us

my father keeps the other deeper silence
the hollow heart of an oak, its rings

foreshortened and time less. Ink gone dry.
I discovered my parents arms reach wider

than sight, beyond branch and root
to the source of all giving and taking
 

[AlienFlower]

Dave, why not start with the question—eliminating the first three lines?

You might put "replied" in the present tense, as all the other verbs are except "discovered". Or is this poem about N's discovery at this particular party? You could consider eliminating that viewpoint as unnecessarily complicating, letting us understand "discovered" as a realization N grew up to in this family.

The wide embrace, the tenderness, and the visuals make this very powerful.

Parents should be parents'.

Jackie

[Dave]

Thanks Jackie, 
Pertinent thoughts. The poem is in fact really about the N's realisation at the party of this hidden information. I do like the present of replies rather than replied and understand the elimination of the first three lines. Will give it some thought.
Dave
 

[Gyppo]

Dave.

Technically I feel you need 'timeless' rather than 'time less'.  But it's your poem.

There's some deeply evocative lines in this.

Michael, the boy who did not survive...

Gentler, and yet somehow far more telling than 'the boy who died'.  The name is important.  It recognises his brief existence.

when the family gathers itself in laughter
and back-then stories and myths of us...

Family gatherings, where truths sometimes morph into semi-myths with the generations, and vice versa.

my father keeps the other deeper silence...

Often the way of the male of the species.  We often don't want to struggle with the explanations and dealing with other people's responses to a long-ago loss.  It hurt enough at the time, (it still does when you let it), so why drop it into otherwise casual conversations?  A lot of us aren't too good at dealing with sympathy except from family and close friends.

how many children do you have?

For me, this truly depends on the question I'm asked.  Maybe my inner pedant kicks in.  An instinctive protective precision which leads me to answer many questions as asked.  When it's worded as above, I'll automatically answer two, because that's how many I have.  But if someone asks how many my Ex and I had, then I may well answer three, because that's a very different question, about then, and not now.

Which perhaps explains how some 'family secrets' just happen.  It's not a conscious hiding of events, but just part of the moving on, dealing with what's currently happening, or likely to happen.

Like Dave, discovering he had a lost brother, I was very shocked as a young teenager to discover my dad had been married before and his wife and a son had both died.   Birth and marriage certificates can often surprise curious little paper shufflers.  Registrars rarely make mistakes, but they can only record what they've been told.

Gyppo