Yesterday
"Yes," she replied tersely.
"I was told there was no prospect."
"But still you persisted,"
he hammered with a look of self-satisfaction.
"You
. . .," she paused, raised her eyes to meet his gaze, "I
will always write the light of the truth, even in the face of cynicism
and expulsion."
Don't Know
Why couldn't he be more like them,
pretend a little, or at the least remain silent, but once again
he was running-off at the mouth, forcing her to choose between their
friendship and her desire to be a member of the league. Her stomach
cramped; his fingers drummed.
Sign
They believed the truth would be revealed
if they paid attention. But they didn't know what to look for and
it didn't matter anyway. He was guilty. Everyone said so and how
could the whole town be wrong. He was the only one who insisted
on his innocence.
Dusk
, her mama said, was the time of day
when, if you held your breath, you could hear the earth talking
to the trees and insects, and when, if you were so lucky, you could
fall in love with the person who would always love you more each
dawn.
Sheer Curtains
They needed to be washed, but the
thought of bare windows made her remember what she had not wanted
to see that day she peered through her neighbor's French-doors and
saw Mr. Walters with a gun to Jimmy, his youngest son's head, who
was sucking at his crotch.
Inside His Stomach
The sultry day lulled him to sleep
on the hammock strung on the fruit laden mango tree. Spittle bubbling,
mouth open in a deep snore, the fly tip-toed in anticipation and
was swallowed in darkness before the wind could wink. He woke with
his stomach whispering tales.
An adventure
I had not intended to go that way,
but the tree with its head full of pink bulbs caught my eye. I glanced
up to marvel at the blossoms and I spied him swinging from one of
the branches. He called out,
"Marry Me!"
"Yes, when?" I replied.
The Secret
She sat on the aisle seat next to
me, on the express bus going to Geary. She smelled of orange rind
and twisted her fingers.
"Don't tell anyone," she
whispered. "I'm going to the ocean to drown my father."
She smiled, patted the wooden urn on her lap.
I Always Dream
of the hurricane
winds that blew down the light-poles. My older sister and I were
trapped outside in the dark, in the aftermath, the wind blowing
our clothes to threads, the sound trumpeting our bodies like a mad
musician. But we held tightly to each other's hands.
Afraid
The one thing he won't allow is anyone to get too close. The memory
of the week he was locked inside the bantam closet with his siblings
wailing and gripping his arms, and he not able to comfort them or
even yell for help, congeals his voice every time.
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