Emerging Poet Award WINNER: “The Future I Feed My Brother” by Asma Al-Masyabi

Asma Al-Masyabi is a Scholastic Silver Medal Poetry winner with publications in Subnivean, the Santa Clara Review, the Riverstone Literary Journal, and more. She often uses poetry as a way to process the world, as she does with “The Future I Feed My Brother,” which she dedicates to her younger brother. She’s currently pursuing a degree in creative writing at the University of Colorado Denver and looks forward to a career filled with words and art, her two biggest passions.

The Future I Feed My Brother

By Asma Al-Masyabi

I feed my brother compliments. Little

boys go hungry when left too long alone.

Dark green looks great on you. I like your

hair today. That hat’s lookin really good. I feed 

him chocolate muffin recipes. Vegetable chopping

helping with breakfast recipes. Here is how

you cook an egg recipes. He grows taller

when he breaks a yolk over potatoes and

watches as others swallow the warmth

of his hands. I feed him with affection. Half

hugs while we’re busy in the kitchen, on 

mornings when he wakes half frowning

and I remember how small he used to be.

I pat his head or hold him in a loose choke

hold and when he swats me away, a small

kiss on his cheek. A mirror of I love you

at the end of a call. I feed him with attention.

At the sink I quiet as he dreams game designer

and building a computer from outside in, tells

me about his math lesson, friend moving 

to another state, matches he played and

won in Minecraft with only a wood sword

and leather armor. When I ask him to go on,

his smile expands. I feed him courage, a small

push when he confides in me his fears, I feed

him confidence, words to hold when he feels

too small or not enough, and when he asks

me to tie his orange-heeled sneakers I kneel

and feed him two loops twisting into a bow

that will not loosen, feed him the other

shoe, waiting, even for his fingers to slip,

for his bunny ears to become knotted,

for him to huff, wonder aloud if he will

ever be grown enough. Even if I laugh,

I take his hands and lead them. Feeding

him the promise of his future.