[Skip to Content]
Access to paid content on this site is currently suspended due to excessive activity being detected from your IP address 54.211.168.204. Please contact the publisher to request reinstatement.
[Skip to Content Landing]
Citations 0
Poetry and Medicine
April 21, 1999

Night Calls

Author Affiliations
 

Edited by Charlene Breedlove, Associate Editor.

JAMA. 1999;281(15):1360. doi:10.1001/jama.281.15.1360

Below the maple tree his window pours
the black it holds across the shutters across
the clapboards, over the leaf-clogged gutters we meant
to clean. And what does it mean? In my brother's room
tonight, no one is sleeping. Somewhere a truck
starts up unmuffled, a sound that rises and falls
like his echoed snoring. How often I shuffled into his room,
guided by patches of moon through the maple.
Does it matter how hard or often I tugged and heaved?
Or how he breathed easily facing the window?
Above the maple, wind is a long
smooth sigh that smothers the neighborhood like a pillow.
Leaves creep from the gutter, scrape under my covers
and tonight, there is no one sleeping in my brother's room.

First Page Preview View Large
First page PDF preview
First page PDF preview
×