somebody’s lawn
all blood gone
from his features
he stood dumbstruck so
I managed to say
she thinks you want to make her
not be gay
Father shook his head
No, that’s . . . no . . .
That, that . . . I can’t care about that.
It’s the anger, the blindness
Hurting the two of them.
I’m worried,
You’re worried, I know you are,
Because you care.
he tried to spot her down the street
but she wasn’t there
I’ll find a way to talk with her,
With both of them. But
Will you go after Rachel? Now?
Bobby, would you do that?
me? I . . .
I . . . guess
She trusts you, I think,
And shouldn’t be alone.
I don’t know
maybe
okay
Thank you, Bobby.
I did go
to the house I knew was hers
yellow like a buttery sun
blue door
flowers bunching around the lamppost
and took a step up
the walk from the street
but suddenly I felt like rags inside
like I’d been shredded up
too much by everything
by all her razor blades
and so I turned
maybe I heard some tapping
on a window
maybe not
but I wasn’t there
long enough to hear
I Had to Be Alone
had to sew the ragged shreds
back in place
quiet the clattering crashing clanging
in my head
because it’s me
it’s me
my life
whatever it is or isn’t
I sure don’t need this
I mean why was it always
up and down with her
and close and far
okay and weird
and friend not friend?
it made me sick
it made me want to sleep
it made me want to
be somewhere else
Don’t touch me, you freak!
the word slapped
like a ruler slapping sunburn
Freak!
well I knew that
and worse much worse
but did she have to say it?
why had she drawn me
so I didn’t look half-bad?
and her swearing at the priest
holy shit this sad old man
who cried from floods
and hungry babies
I didn’t know
I didn’t know
what to think
say
do
be
I went to my camper
and slammed the doors
and tried to shut off
my head
my face
my eyes
my breath
I Stripped the Picture
from the wall
where I had taped it up
it stared at me
under the light
like I stare at faces
and make people mad
and
I still didn’t get
how she could
do it
make it live
like a real thing
just out of lines and lines
seen by her eyes
her eyes
her eyes could
somehow see a me
that is more me
than I am
that is so weirdly more
so better than
actual
me
how do you deal
with that?
and more than that
what was this kid
this boy
myself
what was I going to
say
do
be?
How Long I Was There
before the camper doors
cracked and slivered open
I couldn’t say
it woke me up
not now, dad, go away—
but the fingers were not his
they were long and charcoal-stained
and shaking
as they unwired the wire
until the doors pulled back
and night came in
as if opening a passage
to a tomb
the night came in
and like the night herself
she crawled in next to me
I’m going to do it.
Tonight.
do what?
I said then said
you know, never mind
I don’t like you right now
I’m going to do something.
To get back.
she was breathing hard
as if she’d run away
from home
her clothes
stank of cigarettes
I am.
who cares?
not me
I don’t care
then she smiled
one of those smile-less smiles
and tossed a bag
of chips at me
and when I wouldn’t
touch it split it
open and set it
on my chest
like freaking boyfriend girlfriend
and picked at it
you hate me
remember?
I hate everybody.
she snickered
then I said
he doesn’t hate you
a pause a long one
Maybe.
But no one listens to me.
because all you do is swear
another wait then
Look. I’m sorry I called you that.
Freak. I’m one too.
You know that, right?
not buying it
lame just lame
Wait. You still have this thing?
she snatched the picture
from the floor next to me
and stuck it straight up
among those stars
then she flicked her lighter
thumb-turned a dial to spear the flame
up high
shining those stars
and the ceiling
of my whole metal room
glowed with the stars
my mother painted there
my parents painted there
with me in the middle
that’s when I saw
how Rachel’s cheeks
were wet and red
what happened?
and her face went
to stone
She won’t let up.
you should just go talk to him
She pushed me too far this time.
you’re not listening
Too far.
what
did she hit you
what did she—
Jimmy yelled out from the house
Hey, Bobby. Another picture!
Bobby? You out there?
It’s Mommy. A photo.
I sat up
you need to sort this out
not me
I have to go
No.
you’re too much
I have—
What? You have what?
I’m going in
she growled and sat up
next to me
Gah! I’m out of here.
The Shriek
the camper doors made
when her palms
double-pushed the two of them apart
was like a screaming bird
an angry wounded bird
thrashing in the leaves
and she flew out
into the night
as cold and quick and dark
as the cold dark air
Rachel—
I said
but she was gone
I Don’t Know Why
I followed her
Why did you follow her?
I don’t know why
I followed her
but I did
like she dragged me
in her screaming wake
it was hard going
down the slope
there was no moon
the sky was low
and black with
a smell of cold
and every step
a half slip
she sloshed
almost like a drunk
across the creek
and up the other side
toward the church
at every step and stumble
I shouted
at myself to not
go after her
she’s a messed-up jerk
whatever she does
she does
I called out
come on wait
where are you going?
she only went faster
as if she were either
trying to get
away from me
or coax me after
what are you even doing?
a weird noise from
her
a crazy kind of laugh
like a devil
spewing her plan
in a single word
Burn!
burn?
burn what?
His Little House
his yellow light
the pinhole light
was suddenly a beacon
in the dark
she scrambled
through the trunks
and leaves
and tangled growth
up the valley side
Rachel, stop—
but already she was
near the top
already hovering outside
the little window
looking in
It’s empty. Good.
come on
he’s not against you
he doesn’t even care
she tugged hard on
the shed’s door handle
it wasn’t locked
we need to get out of here
she looked inside
at the stacks and stacks
of books on shelves
on the table
on the floor
the pictures pinned
to the walls
all those faces of Jesus
and on the table
little lines of ink on pages
and a stack of white
clean paper not yet pages
a lumpy vase
of pens and pens
she saw it all
everything I saw
but the anger
was hers alone
Look at this.
He’s probably writing
About me.
you’re an idiot
he doesn’t care
you know he’s all right
we need to leave
What are you, his weird little altar boy?
her dark side came quick and quicker
she flicked the lighter
and a tongue of flame
popped high
like a ghost
freed from
his stony tomb
get—out—of—here!
and just like with my dad
my skinny stick arms
jolted alive and I pushed her
out the door
touched pressed grabbed her
roughly this time
What the hell!
I wasn’t going to—
she fell and her hand
her hand
her iron hand
went back
the lighter flame still on
it was so fast
the trees meshed for days overhead
had kept it all so dry
the
