She was better at it. So much better.
At everything.
minutes of quiet
then
Long story short, never a day goes by
Without me knowing how I screwed up.
I did. Not you.
It was never you.
I tried to pull
my mom together
in my mind
red hair
laughing
singing
do you have a picture?
it was a strain
to pull his wallet
from his back pocket
the photo was bad
a cloudy day
far too many mountains
gray and gray and gray
peaking in the back
her red hair flying
and she was too far off
looking down
at a lumpy blanket
in her arms
is that me?
he nodded
as he took the photo back
pressed it
to his chest
where
his breaths
came ragged and wet
Mommy . . .
Mommy was a funny lady.
You don’t know how funny.
And she sang
To keep me from falling
Asleep on the long
Straight roads out there.
She wouldn’t let me sing
When she drove, though.
I have no voice.
But her . . .
She always sang the sad ones.
“Love is like a fading ember . . .”
his hollow voice
almost without
tone almost
dying
What?
the word is dying ember
you listen to it enough
See. I can’t even get that right.
is that why you listen
to the slow sad stuff
because of her?
he raised his eyes
from the almost vanished flame
Pathetic, isn’t it.
no not really I thought
and then I went
take me down
where the trains run slow
and he met my eyes
and sighed out
a long long breath
and said
My hair, yeah.
But you got her voice.
I Unplugged
the camper cord
from the wall
moved to the couch
and lay in the dark
the longest time
smelling candle smoke
I’d taken all this in
his story of our past
just watching him
staring I guess
hearing in my mind
him try to sing
in the camper
with me and mom
her stopping him
and all that western light
dad’s eyes had closed
I closed mine too
to get it blank
inside
and waves of
I don’t know what
kind of wind
went through me
as if I was a tree
and all my limbs
and leaves
were moving
humming
floating on
the breathing of the air
and while the air
breathed
and he breathed
and I breathed
I fell inside
myself
to sleep
Some Mornings
as much as I need
the night and dark
to drape
over me
like a cape of iron
the lightness of the light
lifts me some mornings
to a place where
I can stand
myself
and just forget for a while
all the junk I trip over
the knots I’m twisted in
I even fake a
glance in the mirror
without seeing me
some mornings early
I could come down and
he was already
at the radio
Baby, it’ll be all right.
it’ll be all right
it’ll be
it’ll be all right
and maybe
if you suck in
a breath and
count to five
in the time it takes to
count to ten
but take it slow and
only count to five you can
just
get
out
the
door
and that’s what I did
Except It Wasn’t All Right
Rachel rushed at me
in the hall
within ten minutes
of me getting there
she came at me
at no one else
the hall was moving and moving
bodies crossing
all those faces
voices
but of them all
she came at me
look, I didn’t mean—
I started
about holding her hand
I know you like Maggi—
but then she coughed out
gargled out
hissed out
that her mother
—told Maggi’s parents!
told them about what
the girls had been up to
dating
kissing
and whatever
told them what they were
Maggi said her parents weren’t
Even mad at her.
They thought my mother was
A total lunatic.
They said she was too young
To know if she was gay.
As if!
She’s as gay as gay
And knows it.
They told her I’m unstable
And weird.
my tongue moved
in my mouth
but my lips went tight
and wouldn’t work
Then they tried to tell her
I was using her.
That I forced myself on her.
Forced!
Can you believe it?
If they say anything to ruin my chance
To go to the academy—
I don’t think they—
I need to get out of here.
I swear I’ll . . . I’ll . . .
what
what will you do
Then they told her,
Told Maggi,
Made her
Break it off with me.
and?
and?
And she did.
Then Rachel Asked Me
to come over
after school
except she didn’t ask
she really said
Come over.
it wasn’t an ask
like none of her
asks were asks
My mother’s home.
She’s there.
I can’t be alone with her.
That face looking at me.
I need someone there.
Come over. That’s all.
Come over.
she hates me
she hates me more than anything
She’s full of it.
Besides, she’s probably cooking up
Something sneaky,
Which maybe she won’t if you’re there.
Anyway, what do you care?
I need somebody there.
she looked
like she would
just go up in flames
right in the hall
so I broke my rule and said
okay
I’d take
the bus home
with her
As If They Doubled
the length of the day
it went on forever
I had hours and hours
to think of ways
to say no way
but every time I saw her face
and it was always there
her iron twitching eyes
were like a flicking lighter
near a spill of gasoline
that soaked me too
what could I do
what could I make different
what
what
who am I
to go or not to go
and there she was
at the final bell
flicking clicking
and there I was
on her bus
the whole thing
crashing in my head
like the thousand plates
my mother threw
too soon too soon
the bus slowed
near her house
she jumped up from our seat
stomped up the aisle
and stopped dead
on the bus stairs
staring down
She Stopped Dead on the Stairs
when she saw him
standing near a tree
waiting at her stop
Father Percy
No, God, no.
she said
Guys?
the driver said
he stretched his hand to the door lever
his eyes on me
as if (ha) I was the normal one
Rachel?
the priest said
Miss, come on.
she jumped to the ground
both feet together
as if to pound
a hole in it
I followed
and the door whooshed closed
Rachel?
Father Percy said
and she said like a spit
You! I’m not talking to you.
then to me
to me she said
You knew he’d be here, didn’t you?
what?
no—
she stormed away
but the priest kept on
and caught up to her
arms hands reaching out
he didn’t touch her
(oh please don’t)
but she shook her
shoulders loose
as if he had
I heard from ten paces
eight paces five
stumbling to keep up
she had forgotten about me
that’s fine
I heard her anyway
and him
and what he said
in his slow low words
that landed
like a printed page
Rachel, please,
I wonder if we can chat,
Just a few words about—
he glanced aside at me
—what might be going on.
I think if we could talk.
Your mother’s worried and so am—
she turned
whirled on her heels
and faced him
with her face
more mad and mean than
ever
My mother! My mother can go to hell
If she thinks I’m going straight,
And you can too.
Both of you!
both?
me too?
and then
she swore at him
and wouldn’t stop
and kept on
right there on the street
at him
her mother
and the world
Rachel, listen—
his hand tugged at his neck
and a strip of white
slid out of his black collar
Not as a priest.
Not as anyone but a friend.
I don’t care.
then I said
Father, tell her you don’t want to change her
Rachel, listen—
but she ran and ran
leaving me with him
his
