The Number You Have Dialed

“He died after I tried to.” “I’m here and he is gone.” D.S. Waldman revisits the space between his own near-death and the death of his brother, drawing on a trio of poems to better understand the narrow threshold that only one of them crossed. For two days we swam in the brisk Atlantic water, grilled burgers and brats, read in low deck chairs in the shade. It wasn’t until my friend and I were tasked with a general store run that the stream of texts, missed calls, and voicemails barraged my phone, unleashed by my sudden resumption of cell service. Reading and listening to the messages in the car, I pieced together the play-by-play: your brother’s sick . . . your brother is in the hospital . . . your brother is in the ICU. Can you catch a flight? Can you come home? Please call.