Unconditional Love

My brother was a psycho.

Electric with anger and rage,

always. Returning from prison

he trained to become a spark,

as if that might help fix

the mismatched wiring in his brain.

The job didn’t last long.

Nor the reformed man

ready to return to society.

Six months, this time.

He never kept a job

longer than a prison sentence.

This was twelve years ago

and I haven’t seen him since.

My mother eventually kicked

him out. Sick of his antics.

Sick of the late night telephone calls

from Stanley Road Police Station.

The truth is, it wasn’t his fault.

It suited everyone to keep him nuts,

just in case someone needed filling in.

Hailed a hero, he’d be, until his anger

exploded on someone less deserving.

A villain, in that case.

Now, we don’t speak his name.

Cards arrive at Christmas and on birthdays

but there’s no return address.

I can’t say there’s much love lost

on behalf of my mother.

Unconditional love is a contradiction in terms.