A family spots their brother sleepwalking
in a narrow hallway. He is cooking in his dreams,
pretending chef, moving around a kitchen,
screaming humbug at dried bits
of onion powder in a spice container, and so
takes off to the grocery store,
his hands miming a driver’s
who is having a heartfelt
conversation with a passenger
which could be any one of them.
They are careful not to wake him
for fear of triggering a heart attack
or a fall down the stairs.
He bares his teeth which means he is now
a canine, most likely a pit bull; his eyes
go dark as a chimney, so he hums a little
Scottish ballad about time.
They hope he finds his way back.
They tire of circling him and think, by all means,
continue your travels in your cardboard world.
His wife feels ever his value
and grabs their hands and shifts when he shifts
and falls when he falls.
Copyright © 2025 by Major Jackson. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on May 28, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.
