brother poem

lo! 'tis a gala night
within my hand i hold
up from the south at break of day
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
rocked in the cradle of the deep
high walls and huge
my mother taught me that every night
be in me as the eternal moods
she might have known it in the earlier spring
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
she said