Deborah Schwartz’s “Brother” is a poem yearning and pleading for connection, amidst the background notes of time slipping ceaselessly by. Like precious moments ticking by, the sparse short lines of “brother” tumble down to the poem’s poignant and beautiful conclusion. Deborah informed The Dewdrop that her poems seem to be concerned with family lineage. “Who haunts and how, and how those hauntings are made come through a legacy of mental illness, immigration, poverty, and cultural and individual resilience,” she offered. “But that’s probably loftier thematics than the poems hold. Mostly, they hold my word-play and questions,” Deborah concluded.
Brother
Pouring tea
in the wind
outside
your house
a chance
that you might
join me. Who
wants the sun
when the trees
have made their mark
on the night.
I can see their branches
like cups pouring
the faucet
of being alone
into me.
I love you
brother.
You are asleep,
while the tea is getting cold.
The century grows
quickly. Come outside
dance like a bear’s son.
I can imagine
dancing
in the woods
when you
were asleep
I collected mint.
There is no moon.
Pa shot famous
three pointers.
I will have him
read to you.
He calls you
outside
to us.
You are a boy
by the water
fishing.
A crack of light
is the fight
that you win.
The light
tells us
something.
I am listening
to it though
it is scratchy.
The light
tells us to listen.
Though
every little thing
in the world
is not always
available,
I am.
Deborah Schwartz
Deborah Schwartz is the author of two full-length poetry collections: Wind of the House, Voice of the Stream, of the Dream That you Dream, While We Turn You Around (Kattywompus Press, 2022,) and A Girl Could Disappear Like This (Kattywompus Press, 2019.) She is an Associate Professor in the English Department at Bunker Hill Community College in Boston, MA, and lives with her wife on the Boston Harbor in East Boston across from the tall buildings that make up the city. http://deborahcecileschwartz.com/