nana died. sometimes daddy isnt here. sometimes i sit so still that i kind of want to be invisible. except Mommy always sees me. so i smile.
im pretty sure no one person should watch this much Buffy in one sitting when my Mom comes in. she peers at my sunken form on the couch. been in relatively the same spot since graduation. i cant afford college though i got in places. i cant hop off to see the world, but i can turn on the tv. im not good enough. i cant leave and move forward. i cant go back to high school. i cant-
enough, she says. she picks up my blanket, muttering in Spanish that you are who you are and you are where you are. then she unceremoniously dumps me on the floor of my future. so i get a job.
we fight about me cutting my hair. we fight about schools. we fight about the dishes and cleaning the bathroom. so i go away.
Ma calls. she’s hurting. she’s busy with the little ones. she’s angry. she needs help. she misses me. so i go home.
my Mother pushes me to write. to create. to paint. to be better. so i get a masters.
sometimes when life’s too stressful and there’s deadlines and i cant finish anything and i shouldnt be a writer and i suck compared to everyone else and im tired–
where the wind tears through the thickest coats as we huddle in awkward clumps, side by side, for warmth. praying the show will start so we can go. peer into the horizon, gobbled up by the explosion of lights. sanctioned dynamite, the cold, and pretty dyes are all that separate us from a war zone in Aleppo.
where we gaze at the skies, waiting.
for them to come back. to reach down out of the full looming moon and grab your hand. and skoo dee whoop, scat, skip, and shimmy across constellations. to throw in a twirl or two so that your yellow dress whirls in the approaching star’s gleam.
where mouths stiffen instead of commence kissing
is there such thing as a new beginning? it is started by definition, therefore it was new. once lived, if uncaptured, its never reclaimed. remade. re-hymenated.
wherein that sliver of sour before one cries at another’s pain. before the shouting is deafening. before the thunder of fireworks bashing an eardrum. before we fade into the blankets of night, trying to regain life and limb in the warmth.