Big Fish, Little Brother (?)

"I left a little dinner on," he said.
I did not mind.
He did not mean to be unkind,
My brother. A faintly apologetic air.
A touch of "I wouldn't do it
If I wasn't on my way somewhere,
If I didn't just happen to have some spare
And no time to do the dishes."

My brother thinks I cannot cook
And will not eat and so will starve.
He worries so about me and I, impatient,
In my pride, in my younger-brotherhood
Have told him many times he should not
Concern himself with me. "I know a lot"
I cry, shrilly, into his big brother ear,
"There's nothing I lack, nothing I fear,
Nothing you can give me, Brother Dear."

I lied, of course, I see that now. And how.
Not knowing what I was all about.
Not knowing of the fishers' lines
That would hoist me, wriggling, out the water
Before I could rip my mouth and drop back in
To swim in circles, stunned by sights and sounds
Glimpsed momentarily high above the ceiling.
Ah, hot food. How good it is.