The Gate

by Marie Howe


Original Language English

I had no idea that the gate I would step through
to finally enter this world

would be the space my brother's body made. He was
a little taller than me: a young man

but grown, himself by then,
done at twenty-eight, having folded every sheet,

rinsed every glass he would ever rinse under the cold
and running water.

This is what you have been waiting for, he used to say to me.
And I'd say, What?

And he'd say, This--holding up my cheese and mustard sandwich.
And I'd say, What?

And he'd say, This, sort of looking around.

-- from What the Living Do: Poems, by Marie Howe

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What the Living Do: Poems Saved by a Poem: The Transformative Power of Words The Kingdom of Ordinary Time: Poems The Good Thief: Poems





The Gate