Locomotion (6 page)

 

Now Rodney puts his arm around my shoulder
We keep walking. There's a park
eight blocks from Miss Edna's house
That's where we're going.
Me and Rodney to the park.
Rain coming down warm
Rodney with his arm around my shoulder
Makes me think of Todd and his pigeons
how big his smile gets when they fly.

The trees upstate ain't like other trees you seen, Lonnie
Rodney squints up at the sky, shakes his head
smiles.
No, upstate they got maple and catalpa and scotch pine,
all kinds of trees just standing.
Hundred-year-old trees big as three men.

 

When you go home this weekend,
Ms. Marcus said.
Write about a perfect moment.

 

Yeah, Little Brother,
Rodney says.
You don't know about shade till you lived upstate.
Everybody should do it—even if it's just for a little while.

 

Way off, I can see the park—blue-gray sky
touching the tops of trees.

 

I had to live there awhile,
Rodney said.
Just to be with all that green, you know?
I nod, even though I don't.
I can't even imagine moving away from here,
from Rodney's arm around my shoulder,
from Miss Edna's Sunday cooking,
from Lily in her pretty dresses and great
big smile when she sees me.

 

Can't imagine moving away

 

From
Home.

 

You know what I love about trees,
Rodney says.

It's like . . . It's like their leaves are hands reaching
out to you. Saying Come on over here, Brother.
Let me just . . . Let me just . . .
Rodney looks down at me and grins.
Let me just give you some shade for a while.

They used to live in Macon, Georgia
Peaches,
he says.
Georgia pecans you eat right
off the tree. Georgia pines like those that don't grow
no place else.

 

He picks up little rocks and throws them across the school yard.

 

I know Georgia,
I say.
I know all about those pecans and pine trees.

 

The sun is warm and bright yellow.
There's kids screaming everywhere.

 

But me and Clyde don't hardly notice
'Cause we're sitting up against the school yard fence
just slow-pitching little stones
and remembering Georgia
a place we both used to
a long time ago know.

When Eric comes back, it's like the first day
of school and he's the new boy
in a classroom where everybody's been together since
kindergarten. He's skinnier, quieter
and everybody looks at him out of the corner
of their eyes. Even Lamont is looking
away when he slaps Eric's hand and says
What's up, Dog?
And even Eric's not looking at anything when he says
Ain't nothing
so softly, you wonder
what happened to the other Eric.

 

And at lunchtime Eric shakes his head no
when we ask him to play ball,
walks real slow over to the edge of the school yard
and sits by himself
just staring like he's been
dropped out of the sky
into a world that's kind of familiar
but mostly not.

 

What's up, Dog?
We say to him
and he just looks off, nods real slow
like he's seen some things
we've never seen.
Knows some things
we'll never know.

Dear God,

 

I'm reading the book you wrote. My sister, Lili, gave it to me. I like the beginning when it talks about how you made everything and then rested. It don't say how though. Like how
did
you make the sky and the water and the earth and stuff? And when you took a rib from Adam to make Eve, was that like an operation? Miss Edna says it's blasphemous to ask those kinds of questions but I just wouldn't mind knowing some answers. Lili said when I finish the book, we'll be back together. It won't be exactly the same 'cause, as you know, my mom and dad passed away. You must know because people blame you. I mean, people always say “The Lord works in mysterious ways” and that makes me think that them dying in that fire had something to do with you. I don't really understand though. So I'm trying to finish up the book you wrote but it's got a lot of pages and a lot of names I can't sound out. I read a little bit every night and when Miss Edna comes in, she nods at me and smiles. In the nighttime if she hears me crying, she comes in and rubs my shoulders. She says, “It's gonna be okay, Lonnie. Don't you worry none. It's all gonna work out fine.” And some nights, I fall asleep believing her. God? Did you know that this was a poem letter? And God? Is there some kinda sign you can send down about how Mama and Daddy are doing up there with you? I'm gonna see Lili tomorrow and it'd be nice to go to her new mama's house with some good news.

 

Love, Lonnie.

 

That's how the jump-rope song goes.
LaTenya's over there. She jumps out
on her birthday month, March,
comes over to where I'm sitting
against the school yard fence.

 

LaTenya!
one of the other girls says but LaTenya
just waves her hand
I'm done playing,
she says. Then sits down
says
Hey.

 

I say
Hey yourself.
My stupid heart beating hard.
LaTenya so close I can smell coconut hair grease
like the kind Miss Edna uses sometimes.

 

I can see a place on her hand where a little bump
sticks out
right by her pinky finger.
What's that?
I ask, pointing.
And LaTenya puts her hands real fast behind her back.

Then after a long time, she takes them out again.
Holds them out to show me.
Used to have extra fingers,
she says.
You gonna run away now?
You gonna call me a freak?

 

The school yard's sunny and loud.
There's kids everywhere.

 

LaTenya's friends start singing that
All, all
all in together, girls
song again.
I want to say You sure are beautiful, LaTenya.
I want to say You sure are something.
But my lips get stuck over my teeth.
And my mouth dries up.

 

And all I can do is reach out and touch
those tiny bumps that once was fingers
look at LaTenya, smile and let out a little whisper

 

Camp Kaufman's in upstate New York
in a little town with a long name.
You go to Port Authority and take a bus
and ride for two hours.
Then you're there.
And there's horses and a lake, a swimming pool too.
And there's your little sister, Lili
for two whole weeks in July
the two of you with a whole lot of other kids
but the
two of you
together again
every single day.
Camp Kaufman's coming

 

But now it's June
and you're walking in Prospect Park
with your little sister, Lili,
her new mama's back there at a picnic table
with some people from her church
that you go to now
every other Sunday not because of church
or her new mama's god
or the Bible your sister gave you.
You go because her new mama said
Well, I guess so
when you asked if you could start going.
You go because

you get to sit next to your little sister
for two whole hours and after, if the weather's nice
you and your little sister get to go to Prospect Park
and spend some more time
together.

 

Some of the church ladies pinch your cheek
Say
He's a handsome boy, Selma
to Lili's new mama
who just gives you that look
And sweet as he can be,
the church ladies say.

 

It's Sunday
and you and your little sister are walking in the park.
It's warm and the sun is too bright to look up at
but you feel it on your forehead and neck and down
your arms.

 

Later on, maybe you and your big brother Rodney'll go
shoot some hoops
and Rodney will laugh when you tell him
about the church ladies.
As sweet as he can be,
you'll say
tryna sound just like them
And Rodney will throw his head back
laugh his big laugh.

 

But right now, your little sister's saying

I told you
and holding tight to your hand.
Right now, your little sister's just skipping along
beside you.
I told you, Lonnie!

 

You see God everywhere these days. Especially
when Miss Edna makes her sweet potato pie
and when
your little sister smiles.

 

And camp is only another three weeks away.
And school is almost over.

 

Maybe one day I'll see your name in print
Ms. Marcus said.
You have a gift, Lonnie.

 

The poems come to you day and night. Sometimes
they wake you up
and make you write them down real fast even though
there's not a voice saying
Be quiet, Lonnie
in your head
anymore
Just words.
Lots and lots and lots of words and
this sunny day already making itself into a poem
about your beautiful sister, Lili
skipping beside you in her yellow dress
Smiling 'cause you finally finished reading the Bible
she gave you

the Bible she thinks is the reason you two
are here now
together

 

You let her go on thinking that
'cause she's just a little kid
and you're her big brother, Locomotion
who'd do anything
to keep her smiling.

 

I told you. I told you,
she keeps saying.

 

This day is already putting all kinds of words
in your head
and breaking them up into lines
and making the lines into pictures in your mind
And in the pictures the people are
laughing and frowning and
eating and reading and
playing ball and skipping along and
spinning themselves into poetry.

 

And I was right,
Lili says, looking up at me.
Wasn't I?

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks so much to Juliet Widoff, Nancy Paulsen, Kimiko Hahn, Reiko Hahn-Hannan, and Toshi Reagon for—among other things—reading this.

 

And a huge shout-out of thanks to all of my friends who are poets, especially Meg Kearney, who helped me enormously with line breaks and forms and whose kind words made me believe, all over again, in the power of poetry.