MY MOTHER GOES FISHING

MY MOTHER GOES FISHING
Michael H. Brownstein

My mother buried two husbands and now
I call her every night to see how her day goes.
But my brother knocks on her door
And takes her places, mostly, until sleep takes him
Somewhere, and he sits on her couch and stretches his long legs
And feels the drowsiness of a depression he does not own
Seep into his eyes, gently and quiet, soft as skin,
My mother tells me after he wakes and leaves
How they meant to go to services, but did not. “Your brother
Came here and fell asleep. I couldn’t wake him.”
She did not want to actually. She sat in her room
And waited for him to wake, knowing somehow this was right,
Thinking how lonely the dark is without a companion.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.

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Posted on September 22, 2012, in Michael H. Brownstein, POETRY and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Another moving poem from Michael. I recommend reading his first, MY MOTHER’S SECOND HUSBAND, which is a good companion piece to this.
    https://misfitsmiscellany.wordpress.com/2012/08/20/my-mothers-second-husband/

  2. The ending says it all it is right the connections of all that bonds even thou things have been lost

  3. Beautifully human and moving response to loss and grief from Michael about the inner
    depth and inner penetration of family relationships in this interpretation of solidarity
    and corresponding psychology.

  4. beautiful – ‘feels the drowsiness of a depression he does not own’ steps you right into the life

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