Santiago Ramón y Cajal looked at stained slides of a pyramidal neuron
for hours. He lost himself in branch and stem.
Pen in hand, with eyes closed he drew the neuron’s upright shape.
This could be a poem about brother or brain.
I haven’t decided.
The synaptic input doesn’t care. I let my fingers remember amygdala.
The pyramidal neuron is found in the thinking-about-poem-about-brother area.
I turn his phone on and off.
The pitch of his digital voice
is the reflection of a stick marking the stream.
My fingers shout Dendrite Awake!
With pencil taped to my hand I search
for the brother walking in the dream.
Look at the woman who shoves shame into her poem about a neuron.