reciprocity

[gollum]

reciprocity

did you ever hear the story
about the brothers who
hated each other? they were
twins, identical, the only difference
was that one was left-
handed and the other was
not. they had a duel, standing
bitter and proud, back to
back, mirror images on a
cold winter's morning
(summer's evening, spring's
noon). ten paces later they
were both still standing,
smoking pistols in right and
left hand, respectively, no
worse for the wear. no
bulletholes anywhere--their sleeves,
the barn behind one, the fence
behind the other. they were
twins, you see, and they were
mirrors, and the bullets,
never knowing the difference
between flesh and lead, hit
each other rather than their
intended targets.

so you see, hatred can look like
love when strong enough. in their reciprocity,
the brothers turned death into life.

[Yazimariel]

I likes!
I would suggest some work at the ending.. it might be my English but it took me a while to understand that the bullets hit each other.. (that's if that's what happened. ) and that last stanza.. you've already said it with the story.. why have your narrator repeat it? I really enjoy this piece.. it made me wonder if it really did happened, ya know? it had that feeling of 'this is for real'..

[Branflakes]

Good one. I liked the imagery.

------------------
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I'm tired of the silent majority. Silence equals death.
Life is what you make it.
"For there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so."-Shakespeare, Hamlet
"My hope is that one day our society as a whole will be able to look past gender and see the integrity of the relationship that lies beyond." --Jamie Brown
ChatterBox

[gollum]

take two.

reciprocity

did you ever hear the story
about the brothers who
hated each other? they were
twins, identical, the only difference
was that one was left-
handed and the other was
not. they had a duel, standing
bitter and proud, back to
back, mirror images on a
cold winter's morning
(summer's evening, spring's
noon). ten paces later they
were both still standing,
smoking pistols in right and
left hand, respectively, no
worse for the wear. no
bulletholes anywhere--their sleeves,
the barn behind one, the fence
behind the other. they were
twins, you see, and they were
mirrors, and the bullets,
never knowing the difference
between flesh and lead, hit
each other rather than their
intended targets.
this is not the story of you
and me. this is not a story of
what you want it to be. it is a
story of collision, of getting
what you give, of reciprocity, of
love and consequence, of bizarre
truths that are more alien and
more real than anything you ever
gave to me. this is not the story
of you and me, because you never
gave me anything to give back.

you are not my mirror image, not
my conjoined separated twin,
not what i want to be or what
i want to not be. you are not
on the same plane as i, not in the
same ballpark, not standing
in a frostbitten field with your
breath like clouds blossoming from
your mouth. your back is not to
mine, the pistol is not in your left
hand and your shoulder blades
are
not
and will never be
pressed up against mine

because no one is counting paces

because there is no duel to be had:
i was long gone
before you ever got here

[frivolousme]

This is simply incredible.

[Yazimariel]

Wow. Talk about a good re-draft. this baby is beautiful! 'this is not the story of you and me' I love that line! and your last lines were perfect.. stays with you after the poem itself in a way that it just makes you forget everything else! I feel anger from this poem, I feel the pain of not receiving what you want, of giving back nothing... if that's what you wanted to convey then, wow..