The Realm of Possibility (6 page)

you will rip yourself to shreds to prove that I am worth loving.
you will not hear the chorus of everyone I've let down.

they sing from inside me,
sing from the darkness.

you do not know them.
they are from another town, another time.

but from the same person who now lies here next to you,
who can run her hand over your shoulder and make you shiver.

pull up the sheet.
inhale, exhale.

you are so beautiful.
this light.

the night I gave up on myself was not long ago.
right before I met you.

I was the new girl, and wanted that.
to make me a new person. redraw myself.

I was pretty enough for Cara to take me into her group.
I was phony enough to let her think I was grateful.

we shopped, we gossiped, we made plans.
I let her confide, and let her think I was confiding.

her birthday.
it was her birthday.

she hadn't been going out with Roger for long.
she loved loving him, and I knew that.

I didn't really like him.
let me say that outright—I didn't really like him.

we were at her house, drinking her parents' liquor.
I was bored; she kept asking how I was.

we had spent an hour figuring out what she would wear.
that is, what Roger would like.

I knew Roger didn't care.
he wasn't the kind to notice what his girlfriend was wearing.

other girls, though.
me, for instance.

I was not drunk.
Roger was.

right in front of Cara.
because it was simple.

there is doing wrong without knowing you are doing it.
that can be somehow excused, at least over time.

but I knew it was wrong,
and I did it anyway.

because I liked the power it gave me.
because I liked being able to do it.

I could not be a new girl.
I took him to the backyard.

and the darkness there was not like this darkness.
it was a pitch-black emptiness.

there was no pleasure in it.
just bored destruction.

Cara never forgave me.
I was glad for that.

to have a reason to feel this way about myself.
I gave myself the reason.

you weren't there that night.
I would have to wait another month to meet you.

but you must have heard.
you must have been warned.

I am a damager.
and yet, you hold me.

I am so tired of the phoniness,
especially my own.

with you I feel real.
but then I worry about the me that lies beneath.

at the end of the book, Holden says don't tell anybody anything.
I say all these things without ever saying them out loud.

this is the voice I hear.
I always hear.

the inhale, the exhale.
you are so soft like this, touchable.

breath is not aware of its history; it is just breath.
I wish I could be like that, or love could be like that.

you give me hope.
I debate whether I deserve it.

the rise, the fall, the rise.
if I hold you, you will know it in your dreams.

I run to the cliff, and then see you sleeping.
I stop.

this darkness is so many things.
it is my past in my present.

forgive me for what I might do to you.
the threat of my past in my future.

the inhale, the exhale.
the unsilent silence.

the blue room.
seeing in the dark.

the unearned comfort of you.
my regrets.

I regret
I will try.

1. Reliquary

The slide is offered to the darkness,
gold and jewels in the shape of a child.
“She was a young girl in the tenth century”—
nothing else is known.

How sad it must be for you
to be nothing more than a hollow statue,
to have your tomb preserved
and your story forgotten.

2. Hourglass

I often want to pour more sand
into the hourglass; you know the shape,
how it is supposed to mean time.
We are caught in the narrow middle.

You and I play games with each other.
I turn over the hourglass and you protest.
You are not ready to move yet. So instead
you knock it over, grab my hand.

3. Anne Frank

When I was twelve, I decided to be Anne Frank
for Halloween. She was my favorite author,
the person I wanted to be when I grew up.
The neighbors didn't know what to do

when I showed up in my schoolgirl outfit,
the red plaid diary under my arm. Danny was with me,
dressed as Charlie Chaplin. I guess that was my fantasy,
to imagine them walking down our street together.

4. Diary

I catch you reading my diary; you argue
if I hadn't wanted you to read it,
I wouldn't have left it out.
If only I'd left you out, too.

You say you only read one page,
the one where I rant against war.
I take the diary back and write a new page,
so you can read my disappointment in you.

5. Quilt
My great-grandmother made it for my grandmother
and her marriage bed. From there, it ended up
with me. It is a crazy quilt, colors crashing
every which way. I've studied it for hours,

trying to find a pattern beneath it all. I asked
my mother about it, and she said that some things
are just random. Then she cried for my grandmother,
and I went back to find the beauty in the random.

6. Present

Just when I decide to leave you, you make me
a card. There is no occasion attached,
just a kaleidoscope collage of the world,
green mountains, blue oceans, the sun.

You've used tape, not glue, and the edges
are already starting to split. Inside you've written
This is all for you,
and I'm amazed
you've given me something I will always keep.

7. Sappho

She leaves me fragments and they are more real
than a library of novels. Wisps of words
from centuries ago, caught in the translation.
I often feel I am living in fragments, skipping

over words, leaving the rest of the sentence
blank in order to move on to the next page.
Maybe there is hope in fragments, that what is lost
can always be filled in by someone who knows.

8. This Moment

You drive me down to the shore
and I push you right into the waves.
You laugh and pull me in with you.
I feel the shells beneath my feet.

We hold each other at the same time,
the sun dancing in your hair.
And I think, this is what's eternal.
Not for us, but in itself.

a banner of light breaks into the room, five minutes before
the alarm awakes
a cold when the blankets are removed
a concern that passes
a detail unnoticed by the next moment

a look at the clock
a memory of saying hello to an angel in a dream

a squint when the lightbulb switches on
a stop as the water turns warm, then hot
afraid of the day in inarticulate ways
after the shower, the half dream will wash away
as incomplete as the ghost who still reaches for doorknobs

as I choose which clothes to wear
as I pack the bag for the day
asking for nothing in return

assignments, astrology, asymmetry
at breakfast, zack eats pancakes three at a time
attempting to be a good sibling, I ask about anne
awestruck by love, or something like it, he answers with an unaccustomed sweetness

back to the routine
before the radio is turned off
before the ride is over
begin right here

beginning to understand where hesitations come from
betrayal is in the air, my thoughts
better to not have to choose between safe and sorry

biology is no way to start the day
blackboards are never black anymore
blameless, jakob slips me a note that says
she's being
ridiculous
borderline between sides but we used to be friends

can't be that simple
capillaries are invisible to the eye
catalog all the reasons a friendship ends
caught between those reasons is the truth I'll never know

certain there will never be certainties
circle the following option
circulation is what keeps us alive

clamoring in the halls
clutching to the hope of not seeing her, not being called out
come here
come over
contradict me again and I will break your heart

curvaceous ms. gunderson presides over history
daniel asks me if I'm doing okay
daring me to explode
deceptively, I smile

despite all the thoughts that run through your head, you're
never really ready to let go, are you?
distract me with the prussian war, ms. gunderson
distract me with the way you brush back your bangs
do whatever you have to do,
I said to tegan

drown in the word ANYTHING written on a desk
duration is a relative thing

early warnings are never heeded
easy to say now that I should've known
end that line of speculation; go to gym

even though we never made this walk together
even though we weren't that kind of pair
even when I promised not to do this
everything is missing right now

fashion your composure
feel normal in your gym clothes
field that birdie like such things matter

for another lover—no
for freedom—not really
for hundreds of minor infractions—perhaps
for seven months, we were together
for the time being, there's no way to know the reasons

forget, forgone, forgotten
fourteen things of hers are still in my locker

gail is humming a hymn as she walks with her trinity into math class
gentleness is a statement
gestures are everything we need

give it time,
tegan said to me last night, as if a breakup was something you could leave out to dry
go,
I shouted, but what I meant was the opposite

graph the coordinates, find the parabola
group it all onto the page, even though it goes on forever
growing up is hard to do

had I seen the distance?
had I seen the distance, could I have crossed it?
halved, harmed, hard to say
having enough had been enough

her

here is the place we'd meet for two minutes before the next bell
here is the time we were the only ones left in the school and kissed by the light of the exit sign
here is where we
here is where we're not

hidden in the library for study hall, I try to think compositionally for my english homework
hip to my distress, jed comes over to listen to whatever I have to say
his concern is as clear as my confusion
his pen doodles in my margin as I tell him
history often comes sooner than you think

honestly,
she said before saying it was over
honing in on my every vulnerability, my every fear
hopefully, I tried to persuade her
hopelessly, I tried to persuade her

hours cannot measure what I feel
housed inside me like a caged tiger
how strange it feels to talk about it
how was I planning to get through this alone?

I do not cry
I have had enough of that
I speak these words as a way of controlling them
instead of telling me everything is okay
instead of wallowing and saying life sucks
instinctively jed lets me release my story
it is a way of releasing myself

it's nearly time to go to lunch
it's tempting to skip it
jed asks me if I'm coming, ready to be the company I keep
jitters crescendo, but I close my blank homework and try to prepare for the worst
jocks crowd the lunch line
joking loudly
jostling my tray

jungle laws apply here
just as I think I can do it, I see her at a new table
jutting her attention into a fake conversation
juvenile in her avoidance

karen and daniel and sam are sitting at our usual table, and I know the choice couldn't have been an easy one
keeping my eye on her, I try to restore some faith
kidding myself that this victory wins the war
kindness is clearly not the point
kiss me one last time
is the sentence I will remember

label me any way you want
lace your disdain through every thought in this room
ladder your reasons until they reach the sky
lament as loud as you can—I know you're thinking of me
landing right beside me at the table, jed shifts the conversation to lighter things
lantern lines of words to help guide me away from her

last night I couldn't imagine this new reality
late into the night I pictured it all falling apart

laugh despite her
laugh to spite her
lean forward, listen to your friends
leap if you have to
learn that things will mend in a new way

leaving my guard down has always been second nature to me
lecturing myself to avoid looking over at her
led by curiosity, or desire, or sheer stupidity, I turn and lose
left like there is no such thing as memory

legs soon crowd between us
lending me his english essay, jed tells me to copy quick
letting me twist his words my own way
letting me work through the last minutes of her avoidance
like we never even

listening to my friends' last assurances before the last bell rings
little booster shots of self-esteem
little prognostications of a better future
little protests that she could be so unfair, so wrong

locating mr. feldman in the clutter of his art room, I warn him I will not be sculpting any goddesses today
locking me in his stare, he warns me to paint neither red nor blue
lone among my teachers, I think he understands
looking through the resins and the pigments, I feel my senses' slow return
looping circles into patterns
loosening the muscles that have been so sympathetic to my hurt
losing the fear of touch
losing the knowledge that I touched her, and look what happened

loss takes as much as love does, sometimes more
low voices still say it was my fault
lures of truth turn out to be hooks

making circles
making lines
making meaningless meaning
making signs not meant to be read

many minutes pass, until mr. feldman breaks my spell by breaking the news that the period is over
mapping my design with his finger, he tells me I am blessed
marvelous words in an offhand tone
maybe that's all I need