This is for Johnny. a pure Cancer,

all alien eyes and roasting tongue,

a wit quicker than the executioner's blade.

This is for Daniel, with curls as dangerous as Scorpion tails,

a laugh as quiet as a wake.

They are my opposites, everywhere it counts.

We are sitting in the living room,

a pizza box and three glasses separate us.

Words float through the static of yesterday.

They cut through everything else.

Three siblings. Three mouths. Three laughs.

Good things come in threes.

We are sitting in someone's room.

It doesn't matter whose because they're all messy,

and no one loves messes,

but we love each other.

So I guess we're an anomaly.

Our voices lining the air between us,

twisting into one.

Three siblings. Three beds. Three voices.

Good things come in threes.

This is for Johnny,

a hot head and a healing heart,

responsibility on his shoulders,

and he's only just begun.

This is for Daniel,

pressure on his knees,

working until dusk,

laughing quietly just because he can.

This is for my mother.

A broken heart, split into three.

Good things come in threes.

So did we.