My Brother Is Asking for Stamps
And photos. Photos of me and my
new wife. He’s asking for pictures
of the wedding. He’s very sorry
he couldn’t make it. He can’t wait
to meet her. My brother is asking
if I can call a warehouse office
in Albuquerque and tell them Ray
(his cellie) is fine, and that Ray
would like his old job back, one day,
if possible. My brother is asking
for paper, asking for postage stamps,
and for a few dollars on his JPay. It’s June,
it’s July. He says it’s not so bad in here,
says he’s not getting institutionalized,
won’t get institutionalized, not like
the others. He has TV. He reads. A lot.
My brother is asking for book 5, 6, or 12
of the Women’s Murder Club Series.
It’s May. It’s March. It’s May. It’s October.
Happy Halloween, Brother. He’s asking,
again, for postage stamps, telling me
he might be programmed, sure, but
who isn’t? We all need routine, he says
that one time, after chow, they let
the guys stay out a little longer
and the guys looked at each other like
why aren’t we being locked down yet?
My brother says he’s a confused mouse
sometimes. Sometimes he won’t go out
for rec, can’t stand the fact that it’s going
to end. It’s June. It’s July. Happy Birthday,
Brother. My brother is asking for stamps,
he’s ending every letter with a cartoon
of himself, all homeboyed out,
even though he wasn’t like that before.
It’s like he’s grown an extra life in there
and the Him I grew up knowing is closed
until not-this August. I know I shouldn’t
imagine him this way. But I will always be
younger and looking up. That’s my brother,
he’s asking for stamps.
Outside, the leaves
have turned without notice. It is the week
when every walnut seems to be falling
from the sky, and every time I drive home
I run as many over as possible. It’s June.
Happy Birthday. It’s November. My brother
says he’ll write when he can, he knows
I’m busy. Everyone’s busy. It’s August.
It’s August, and he’s looking for stamps.
Copyright Credit: From An Incomplete List of Names by Michael Torres, copyright © 2020 by Michael Torres, reprinted with permission from Beacon Press, Boston, Massachusetts.
Source: Poetry (February 2021)