Vanya, Mitya, Alyosha,
according to faith in
sight;
too much to ask,
same bowls
same beds
same floorboards
same resentful murky wine;
oh father,
who art thou--
we brothers
have cherished nothing so much
as time and time and time
apart, departed, afar;
control: are you god?
None of us can bring out
capital g after
your shouts
your bouts
your pouts
your certainty;
breakfast was simple
dinner was slow
as impotence prepared
for the pillow;
even after proof,
you can procreate,
you professional creator
your crafted mini not-yet-men--
your brush hand crushed us
until we felt our light.
Roman Ryan 