Never Was

My never-brothers crowd me sometimes,
jostle, tweak my hair, pretend
to trip me up. Older, teasing,
take my books, my dolls, toss them
to each other far above my head.
Or sometimes, gentler, help
with schoolwork, bring home
handsome friends, teach me
how to drive. But they are
never-was and not-to-be,
my mourned, miscarried brothers
stepped aside for me.