Capricious (11 page)

A parachute would be useless?

Ella
,
you're a sweet girl.

Brother
,
I promise this is the last time.

ACRYLIC

Michael's fingers

All bones and skin

Scraped knuckles

Raw, chewed fingertips like

Maybe a rat nibbled at him

While he was passed out somewhere.

There's dirt under his nails

As though he's been buried alive.

I paint it on a tiny canvas

In garish Fauvist colors

Trying to inject life

Into his corpse-like flesh.

LACE

Marika wants a push-up bra

But her mom won't buy her one

I'm

Not

Too

Young

She says

I don't disagree

Only the store that sells

Bras for small-titted teens

Is also where

Genie works.

Hi
,
Marika
!

She says

When we find her

Among the fronds of pink

And lace.

Hi
,
Ella
, she adds

Quickly

Her eyes averted

As though even to greet me

Is a lie.

She wants to buy a bra, I say

And Marika glares at me

Because she prefers

To speak for herself.

Genie, the queen of glares

Doesn't notice

She only gasps

How fun!

Can I help you choose?

And they roll off.

When it's time to fit

Marika waves me away

And lets the expert dress her.

And the two of them

In the accessible fitting room

Giggle and squeal.

While I panic.

PANIC

And I mean panic

Cold sweat

Hot flush

I clutch a rack

Of thongs

And try to blink

Away the black

Gathering at the edge

Of my vision.

Would you like to sit?

Genie's colleague says

And offers a baroque chair

I slump there like a bug

Dying on a rosebud.

When Marika surfaces

I help her get out her money

And the cashier rings up her two bras

One white, one black.

Genie kisses Marika's cheek

And doesn't say another word

To me before she

Disappears.

INTUITION

A few stores later Marika stops

What

Is

Wrong?

Nothing, I say and pretend to look

At the kind of shoes I'd never wear.

Lie

To

S-O-M-E-O-N-E

Else

Not

Me

It's private, I finally come up with

Marika manages a doubtful look

And types

I

Am

A

Good

L-I-S-T-E-N-E-R

But I have nothing to say.

A VACUUM

I
can't complain to her of all people

A
girl who can barely move or speak

M
arika might listen but she would never understand

N
o word exists to encompass what is wrong. I know I'm

O
bnoxious. I know I upset people. I get

T
hat. I really do though sometimes I'm not sure

H
ow it happens. It's not that I don't care for people. Obviously

I
do. I try to anyway. I try to see the sadness in them and

N
ot judge their unwillingness or inability to see the

G
oodness, the worth, in the vacuum of space in me.

B
ut hurts like mine are easily hidden behind laughter or

U
nder ugly ill-fitting clothes or artwork

T
oo obscene to display in public.

T
rying to tell Marika what lurks in the dark

R
ecesses of me is more than confession, it's

A
sking her for absolution for my

S
tupidity. As though her forgiveness might undo the

H
eresy of me in a vintage bikini.

EMPTY HOUSE

I come home to a note.

Obviously, Mom has forgotten

About cell phones.

Again.

Don't worry. Your sister is fine.

She had a bad asthma attack.

They took her to hospital.

Dad and I are driving up there.

Everything is fine. Don't worry.

There are pizzas in the freezer.

We'll call later.

Don't worry
.

Don't worry

Like worry can be turned on

And off like a
TV

And after pacing for two hours

And eating every chocolate chip in the house

I call Samir, who comes over

To worry with me

Until our bodies overtake our minds.

A SONNET TO ENDINGS

The darkest part of night is when I plan

Outlining words, excuses and remorse

I'll try to spare his feelings if I can

I don't know how without more lies. Of course

There will be tears; most likely they'll be mine

But I deserve the punishment. I guess

I made this bed myself and now it's time

To lie in it and hope to convalesce.

My love was complicated but sincere

As much as it is possible to hold

Two boys. But I should face my biggest fear

Alone. It's not so much about the cold

Unfeeling world as MY unfeeling heart

That elevates capriciousness to art.

IT'S LONELY IN THE DARK

For no specific reason

My heart starts to race

In the dark.

Samir sleeps beside me

A little smile on his face.

Somewhere in New York

His brother sleeps

Next to his beloved

And Kayli sleeps, I hope

With the nebulizer mask

And Mom sleeps in a chair

And Dad, knowing him

Is asleep in the car.

And David sleeps

Maybe.

The whole world slumbers

Unaware of all the things

I'd never say.

ANOTHER SECRET

On

         My

                Birthday

Kayli pushed me

Down the basement stairs

We called her Michaela then

Back when we were both cherubs

Kayli

         Shoved

                Me

Because I turned ten

And got my ears pierced

Two tiny green peridot studs

For making it into double digits.

She

         Cried

                When

I couldn't stand

Get up, get up, get up

And I swore I would never tell

And I didn't tell, I only said I fell

I

         Never

                Told

What part of it hurt the most

That she pushed me and called me fat

How her envy had poisoned her that instant

And turned her feathered bright white wings to ash.

My

         Little

                Sister

I was proud of those earrings

Turning them, wincing and diligent until

The day Mom said my ears were nicely healed

I pulled them out and I threw them down the drain.

WATERCOLORS

Mom's hand

Flat, facing me

As if to say

STOP TALKING

And Dad's hand

Flat, facing me

As if to say

Just let me finish this

I dig through my craft box

And decorate each hand

With a tiny peridot sequin

In the center of the palm.

I recognize them

Too late

As those hands

That ward off evil.

Samir has one

Hanging in his kitchen

He told me what they're called

But I forget.

EPIPHANY

What if this is true:

Everything bad that happens

Is really my fault?

SHORTNESS OF BREATH

At last my phone rings.

Yo, it's me
, Kayli says

Way to let the parentals freak out.

Why didn't you stop them?

Now I'm stuck here

In this backwoods chop shop

While someone decides

If I have pneumonia.

Pneumonia?

I don't have freaking pneumonia

          
It's a cold, Mom, a chesty cold.

This is ridiculous.

They don't want me to

Make the drive home.

They talked about using “Child Flight”

Child Flight?! How embarrassing.

How are you anyway?

Beside me, Samir stirs

And opens his eyes.

I'm fine, I say

My hand over his mouth.

When are you coming back?

Who knows?

          
Mom? When can we go?

Tomorrow or the next day.

They're not letting me go back to camp.

I don't really care though

Because Parker has turned into

A fart-sucking douche face.

          
Mom! It's a private conversation

          
With my sister.

What happened? What did he do?

I'll tell you later

Mom's still listening

          
Well? You are!

I should go. Love you, Rah Rah

Don't forget to eat

And you know

Use condoms.

          
Mom! Chill. I'm joking.

Later, loser. No. Wait.

I'M the loser.

PLAYING GROWN-UP

We spend the day together

Quiet as a married couple

Who have amicably

Run out of things to say.

The words I planned dissolve

Under his warm hand

On the curve of my back

In the sunshine

The day rises and falls

Like a last breath.

Toes touching

I read a fat newspaper

While Samir kills zombies

And when it seems the time

Will never be right

David calls.

THE SEARCH

Samir drives

His earlier cordial silence

Replaced with sulk

To be fair it is

After midnight

And three hours

Into a tour

Of the shitty parts of town

Searching for someone

Samir doesn't know

Who is the brother of

Someone he does who

Is kind of my other

Boyfriend.

He looks just like David

Only skinny

I tell Samir

All I get is a grunt

As he gazes through the windshield

At a group of goth girls

Wreathed with smoke

Thank you for helping me

I try and he gives

My knee a pat.

I'm at the park

A text from David reads

Be careful
,
I text back

And direct Samir to a corner

Where everyone knows

The tweakers hang out

Meth
? Samir asks

Why would anyone do it
?

He's sad, I guess

What does he have

To be sad about?

ADDICTION

What do any of us

Have to be sad about?

Except that feeling of

Waking up from a dream

And realizing everything

We thought was real

Is fantasy?

These skin and bones

These wraiths stripped

Off all that artifice

Freed the coyote in them

Became moonlight

And hunger in the

Moment dwelling

Visionaries who see

Only with their eyes.

The world is not

A nice place I tell Samir

As though he doesn't know.

THE END OF TIME

Is that him?
Samir asks

Of a tall shadow

Near the park entrance.

I can see it's David

But a moment of Michael

Washes over him like

A projected ghostly

Skeleton.

Anything?

David asks as we join him

And accepts our answer

With stoic resignation.

He's probably just sleeping it off somewhere

Samir says

To fill the silence

To reassure.

But David's phone rings

And everything good

Evaporates.

PERSEVERATION

Is he dead?

David says

I slide my arms

Around his waist

And hold tight

Is he dead?

Samir hangs his head

His own brother

A swirling cloud

Around him

Is he dead?

My breath reaches

Across the plains

to Kayli's damp lungs

Filling them.

Is he dead?

No, I'm not coming

To the hospital

Until you tell me

If he's dead.

IS HE DEAD?

And Michael's gravity

Pulls us both down

Knees to concrete far

Too heavy for me

TICKING AWAY

Time

Takes no prisoners

Trailing behind

Samir's car like a

Slipstream mist.

Not enough time

To gather the bits

Of David sufficiently