It was Christmastime,
the balloons needed blowing,
and so in the evening
we sat together to blow
balloons and tell jokes,
and the cool air off the hills
made me think of coffee,
so I said, “Coffee would be nice,”
and he said, “Yes, coffee
would be nice,” and smiled
as his thin fingers pulled
the balloons from the plastic bags;
so I went for coffee,
and it takes a few minutes
to make the coffee
and I did not know
if he wanted cow’s milk
or condensed milk,
and when I came out
to ask him, he was gone,
just like that, in the time
it took me to think,
cow’s milk or condensed;
the balloons sat lightly
on his still lap.
From Duppy Conqueror: New and Selected Poems.
© Copper Canyon Press, 2014.
Reprinted with permission of Peepal Tree Press.
Read this and other poems by Kwame Dawes in Duppy Conqueror, available for purchase online.
The repetition of words and phrases in “Coffee Break”—such as “Coffee would be nice”—lends this poem an incantatory, prayer-like quality that often appears in Kwame Dawes’ work. But what we think will be a portrait of a man offering to make his sick friend a cup of coffee on a cool evening, quickly becomes a larger meditation on life’s transience. “In the time/it took me to think,/cow’s milk or condensed,” the speaker tells us, his friend had suddenly passed away. So much can happen, Dawes gently reminds us, in the space of a single thought, and his poem seems a call to pay greater attention to such moments of exchange with those we love. The American Buddhist nun Pema Chödrön has said that this is one of her favorite contemplations: “Since death is certain, but the time of death is uncertain, what is the most important thing?” Dawes asks that same question, and he suggests that small kindnesses are all we can give to each other (or to ourselves) in the midst of illness or suffering, knowing how limited our time on earth will be. When we read the final lines, which also end the long sentence of this poignant poem, we cannot help but grieve with Dawes for his lost friend, seeing those balloons “on his still lap,” filled with the breath that no longer fills him.
Invitation for Writing & Reflection: Thinking back to the loss of someone in your own life, see if you can recall a moment of exchange like this one, some gift shared before the final moment. Try and recreate the scene, speaking plainly and simply of what passed between you.
Photo by Chris Abani
ABOUT THE POET: Kwame Dawes
Kwame Dawes is the author of twenty books of poetry and numerous other books of fiction, criticism, and essays. In 2016 his book, Speak from Here to There, a co-written collection of verse with Australian poet John Kinsella appeared. A recent collection, Nebraska, was published in 2019. He is Glenna Luschei Editor of Prairie Schooner and teaches at the University of Nebraska and the Pacific MFA Program. He is Director of the African Poetry Book Fund and Artistic Director of the Calabash International Literary Festival.
POETRY SELECTION AND COMMENTARY BY JAMES CREWS
James Crews is the author of four collections of poetry: The Book of What Stays, Telling My Father, Bluebird, and Every Waking Moment. He is also the editor of two anthologies: Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness and Connection and How to Love the World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope. His poems have appeared in Ploughshares, The New Republic, The New York Times Magazine, The Sun, and have been reprinted in Ted Kooser’s American Life in Poetry and featured on Tracy K. Smith’s podcast, The Slowdown. James teaches at SUNY-Albany and lives with his husband in Vermont.
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