Distant Echoes

This is a poem I wrote in one of my classes about my brother.

 

Remember our old house,

the green one with the huge

tree and the bright yellow sign

that read "Caution Deaf Child"?

Remember how we stopped playing

in the front yard because people

walking by would give us looks,

but also because our rubber balls would

roll into the loud streets of South Omaha,

the blaring horns of cars scaring us to death?

Do you remember amidst the broken beer

bottles and the walls covered with graffiti,

we told knock knock jokes in our

half-filled green turtle sandbox?

 

I don't remember if I was jealous

when they brought you home, But you grew

to be my partner in crime. I was Butch Cassidy

and you were my Sundance Kid.

We branded our names into the walls with crayons

and stole chocolate chip cookies, all while

getting away in our squeaky Red Flyer.

When Dad caught us, we served time together

in our blue bedroom cell, no TV

or radio to break the silence.

 

Now I’m in my own prison called college

while you, my first friend, are free

to play your video games and music. I spend

 my days just thinking about your messy brown hair,

your new glasses framing your brown eyes, your

shirt worn three days in a row and covered in

greasy crumbs from chips Mom had just bought.

I can hear you asking about the

strange world of girls over the phone.

“Why do girls go to the bathroom in packs?”

“What kind of flower do I get if her dress is red?”

I miss those times we shared making each other laugh.

I promise you one day, Teej, as soon as I get out of here

and get enough money, I’ll take you to Japan.

Just like you’ve always wanted.

Author's Note

One of my brother's nicknames is Teej. So I wanted to make it more personal by using it than his name.

Reviews

[Ari]

I really love the first two stanzas of this. The third stanza is very sweet, but I don't think it is nearly as good as the first two, and it changes the tone of the poem quite a bit. In any case, great writing!

[Samuel Dickens]

How wonderful it is that you love your brother like that. Except for a very brief period when I was eight, my sisters never gave me the time of day. Teej is very lucky to have a sister that thinks about him, and even writes poetry about. Wow! You did a great job on the poem, too, Rosemary. Sam