Nothing Is Okay

Home > Other > Nothing Is Okay > Page 4
Nothing Is Okay Page 4

by Rachel Wiley


  to find me rigid and begin nibbling at the

  drying skin of my fingertips.

  Wouldn’t that be a luxury,

  to not have to witness you leaving me also

  to never find that you’ve slunk off to the basement,

  curled up behind a box of Christmas decorations

  and betrayed me with the shuttering of your heart

  leaving me here,

  belonging to no one

  WHAT IS LEFT

  (For my Grandma)

  The doctor said it could be malignant

  the gumball mass removed from your jawline

  radiation to let it know it is not welcome back here.

  And then you discover that your taste buds are a valley

  of dead radio waves

  not a dance to be had on your arid tongue

  until, like an overlooked present found when taking down

  the Christmas tree

  a lucky unscathed tulip after the bomb smoke clears

  one lone tower filling the silent dark with the best song—

  Chocolate.

  You can still taste chocolate.

  You can actually only now taste chocolate

  a love note from God that he sees you and he

  remembers the little things

  a communion in Hershey squares

  breakfasts of fudge swirled, double-scooped envy

  a wealthy lover buying dinner every night.

  Your tongue is a golden ticket that Charlie Bucket

  would run thru the streets for.

  You’re pretty sure you wished for this once

  in childhood at the malt shop,

  which has long ago stopped being a malt shop,

  when your father leaned down and told you that

  you could have whichever flavor you wanted

  and everything is malt shop now

  because you said

  Chocolate.

  A LITANY ON BREATHING

  For D.P.

  You are mopping up your mother again

  and holding your breath

  You are learning how to take a punch

  and holding your breath

  You are not living up to your potential

  You are skipping school again

  You are dropping out

  and holding your breath

  You are broken water 3 times

  First for a serious blue-eyed boy coated in apologies who

  will understand all of this one day

  Then to a school of angry minnows in the shape of a little brown girl

  who knows too much

  and whose father reminds you how to take a punch

  Last to a son with moth-wing eyelashes and a mouth full of light

  bulbs whose father is lost in the sofa cushions again

  and you are still holding your breath

  You go to work when it is dark

  and come home when it is dark

  and you are holding your breath

  The phone is jangling, an aggressive beggar’s cup

  The children have eaten the plates and filled the sink with snapping turtles

  There is sand in the carpet

  The windows are cracking from water pressure

  and you are holding your breath

  On the night you are pulled over in a swerving car

  full to the roof with river water

  You wish the officer could see how good you have been

  at holding your breath

  and holding your breath

  and holding your breath

  and holding

  You are sure that this is the time you will turn blue

  That the blood damming in your eyes will burst to hemorrhaging until it is dark

  That the seams of your lungs will rip like overstuffed plastic grocery bags when your hands are already full

  That you do not have one more push off from bottom left in Your concrete legs

  And then, instead,

  you sprout gills.

  FOR MY GRANDPA ON HIS 76TH BIRTHDAY

  Today I am wearing your watch faces like trustier knee caps

  I am eating peanut butter straight from the jar

  and I am letting the rage blossom in me

  like a sickness of dahlias

  Later,

  I will hurl a loaded dinner plate against the wall

  I will name things unfair and complain to the moon

  I will sneak down to the basement to eat ice cream

  like the sweetest mistress

  whom I was told to give up

  like I wasn’t going to die a cursed man anyway.

  THE BODY SONG

  In the subway last spring in New York City

  I heard a man playing Edith Piaf’s Je Ne Regrette Rien

  on the accordion wrinkles of his aged arms

  his smile so serene.

  I lie in bed at night and callous my fingertips learning

  this song on the guitar strings of my stretch marks.

  NO ONE’S

  I stand at the very edge of my yard clicking my tongue to the backs of my teeth and making low coaxing sounds in the hope that at best it is resting and at worst it is just injured, that this beckoning to the dog on the curb will stir some sign of life. The flies starting to congregate do not muster even an ear flick and I already know but I won’t step off my property line, because in this spot I cannot see the dog’s face and without seeing the dog’s face I can entertain hope. I consider the swollen belly, bloat so soon? Or was there a handful of blind possibilities also now dead?

  I call my mother to ask

  who one contacts to

  collect no one’s dead dog.

  She says that the dead dogs

  she has handled have all

  been her own, the ones

  she has carried upstairs

  when their hips got too weak

  or whose mouths she has

  spooned baby food into

  when their kibble became

  too exhausting, each one

  of them ushered with

  loving strokes to their loyal

  and domestic fur towards

  a sleepy death,

  nothing so violent,

  so sudden as this dog

  someone hit and left on the curb

  in front of my house

  this dog I am trying to will the rise and fall of a flank out of,

  just one shallow breath from, some flicker that I am wrong,

  some sign to unglue me from this spot

  and send me down to the curb,

  to reach out, and have my hand met with something warm,

  something I could comfort or at very least

  for the ability to blink,

  to turn my head, long enough for the dog to be spirited away

  by some means that will allow me to believe that it got up

  and

  went home

  where it is

  loved.

  WHEN WE WERE KINGS, ONE DAY

  When my niece is 4 years old

  she stands on her chair in a Wendy’s

  to give me lessons on how to roar like a lion.

  She shows me how she pulls the sound up from her feet

  gnashes her teeth

  a smear of ketchup turned gazelle’s blood

  at the corner of her mouth

  tells me, Girls can be Kings too!

  She is making her fiercest lion face

  when a man walks up and tells her to smile,

  that she is too pretty to have her face all screwed up like that.

  And she obliges,

  but she does so as a lion

  with still-twitching prey clamped in her jaws.

  She locks eyes with him and growls until he walks away.

  King of the Jungle is she.

  Now my niece is 6 and skipping pizza day because she

  all of a sudden worried

  if she’s
thin enough to be a queen

  or just pretty enough to be someone’s trophy.

  The tallest girl in her class stoops

  from being told to make herself smaller

  smiles mouth closed to hide missing teeth,

  not to show imperfection

  swallows the right answers in class, not to look too smart.

  She is being tamed for the poachers and I am undone.

  I see you, Patriarchy.

  You gas leak, you pickpocket, you wasps nest

  in the attic, you virus of glass,

  you hothouse minefield.

  I see the 2 short years it took you to hollow her

  defiance into something ungainly.

  I have already spent too much of my reign

  a circus act of obedience

  with your head too close to my teeth.

  You will not have her too.

  This is the notice of your dismantling.

  I will split wide the bellies of men who have

  plundered us for our growl,

  build stilts out of the femurs of men

  who expect us to shrink for them

  and stack crowns worthy of only girl kings out of the teeth

  of men who tell women to smile.

  We are coming for what is ours

  and we all will be kings again, one day.

  HOW TO EAT YOUR FEELINGS: LONELINESS

  You will need:

  -Your prom dress (if it still fits) or some other formal wear

  -1 OkCupid account

  -1 jar of Trader Joe’s Cocoa Swirl Cookie Butter

  Get dressed up like it’s prom night and your whole young glamourous life is still ahead of you. Eat the cookie butter. Straight from the jar.

  Surf OkCupid. Weep hard and ugly

  at the options laid before you.

  Pass out in your formal wear,

  your face mascara streaked

  and chocolate smeared.

  Feeds:

  That Gaping Abyss in Your Heart because

  ANOTHER one of your Facebook friends just got engaged and you will likely die alone with no one noticing your body for weeks or even months because you have become somewhat of a shut-in these last couple of years, how could you possibly expect to meet anyone this way?

  FORM LETTER TO MY EXES TO PREPARE THEM FOR AN ONCOMING PLAGUE OF GIRLS WHO WERE JUST SO SURE

  Greetings

  You are receiving this letter because at one point in time you dated one, Rachel C Wiley. She may or may not have told you she loved you. You may or may not have broken her heart. Regardless she at one point thought you were “the one” and the whole thing probably ended very badly.

  It has come to our attention that after an accident in a lab there has been a recent outbreak of former Rachels. Writhing up thru the ground after 17 years like a swarm of fresh cicadas, covered in the dirt of heartbreaks long passed. There is a chance that one or more of these Rachels

  might still think you are “the one.”

  There is a chance that she thinks she can

  “fix things” between you.

  There is a chance she is on her way to you right now. Perhaps one has already appeared to you, in her prom dress on your parents’ lawn, or waving an outdated cellphone full of thirty-five-cent-apiece text

  message love proclamations,

  or stuffing small cardboard Valentine’s Day cards into a shoebox she attached to your desk at your place of employment.

  Things are going to get awkward.

  Should you encounter one of these shell-skinned Rachels we ask that you contact us immediately with her current whereabouts. You may approach the Rachel to try to keep her in one place but try to avoid

  eye contact as these former Rachels

  do take this as a sign of affection.

  In the event that you have already re-rejected a Rachel and she is standing in front of your home scream singing I Have Nothing by the late great Whitney Houston* and holding up photoshopped renderings of what your children might have looked like please advise your lovely wife and children to stay indoors. The heartbroken Rachel can be lured into a shed or garage with a jar of Trader Joe’s Cocoa Swirl Cookie Butter.

  Once inside you may barricade the door and contact us for removal. If your Rachel is from the early 2000s she may be soothed into an angsty vegetative state with any Fiona Apple album and a box of wine.

  Finally, we cannot stress enough that the women before you do not represent the current state of Rachel C Wiley’s heart. The real-time Rachel C Wiley is, in fact, long over you.**

  Kindest Regards,

  The International Bureau of Unresolved Feelings

  *Footnote 1: The Rachel duplicate is likely unaware of the death of Whitney Houston. Please refrain from adding this crushing blow to the bad news that you do not love her, it might be more than she can take.

  **Footnote 2: Though if you are still by chance single she might be interested in seeing if any of those old feelings still exist, perhaps over dinner.

  EXPECT-CUM PATRONUS

  Another Climmerick

  3 out of 4 women attest

  for orgasms penetration is not best

  with a swish and a flick

  with your tongue, not your dick

  you’ll be a wizard in bed

  for giving good head

  and shoulder above all the rest!

  DRY CAKE WISHES AND TAP WATER DREAMS

  On the birthday of the ex-boyfriend who told me

  I was “too intense”

  I wish him a lifetime swaddled in beige, skinless chicken

  boiled, Kraft singles, steamed rice, and unflavored oatmeal.

  I wish him a wardrobe of Polo shirts—tucked in.

  I wish him sex, but only ever in the bedroom

  always lights out and socks on and planned in advance.

  I wish him safety scissors and mayonnaise

  and the entire state of Indiana.

  I wish him not exactly love but a like that could be mistaken

  for love on a slightly overcast day.

  I wish him slightly overcast days

  and lukewarm showers, Saltine Crackers and skim milk.

  I wish him a prefab house in the suburbs painted in

  colors that resemble unflavored oatmeal.

  Unsalted butter. One-ply toilet paper. The music

  of Mumford and Sons.

  A commute to work in colors that resemble unflavored

  oatmeal to a job that requires him to wear polo shirts—tucked in.

  I wish him a windowless office,

  Plain Cheerios never Honey Nut,

  turkey bacon which is neither as good as turkey nor bacon.

  I wish him crustless white bread sandwiches so he may

  never know that the bread saw the joyful heat of an oven.

  I wish him Great Clips haircuts, half-mast erections,

  and engagement photos in an apple orchard.

  I wish him a wedding in a strip mall chapel wearing his

  very best polo shirt—tucked in.

  I wish him a wife that wears headbands for function

  and never for fashion

  who gives him halfhearted lube-less hand jobs and a

  pair of dress socks for every anniversary.

  I wish him a golden retriever that pees in the exact same

  spot on the carpet—not every day

  but just often enough that he forgets and steps in

  it in socked feet on a Wednesday morning.

  I wish a week of Wednesday Mornings.

  I wish him a lifetime of safety and platitudes,

  a soundtrack of florescent lights humming.

  I do not wish him me any longer, though.

  Never me again.

  I do wish him all of the children he said

  he was not sure he wanted,

  including and especially a daughter, whose eyes remind

  him far too
much of mine.

  REJECTION #3

  Dear MikeTheRaidersFan,

  Thank you for your submission: I know you won’t message me back but I just wanted to say that your beautiful

  but unfortunately the submission deadline for faux self-effacing reverse psychology closed in 2004 when we stopped waiting to be told we were pretty and got busy giving hand jobs to confident men.

  Regretfully, you are not reading this rejection because self-fulfilling prophecy is a bitch we have drinks with every Friday during happy hour.

  Good luck in finding a home for your cock.

  Kindest Regards,

  You Cannot Get into My Pants Without Knowing the Difference

  Between Your and You’re Weekly

  (A subsidiary of Nothing Is Ok, Cupid Quarterly)

  JOYCE CAROL VINCENT: ILLUSIONIST

  In 2003, 38-year-old Joyce Carol Vincent died in her London apartment. Her death and body went unnoticed for nearly 3 years.

  There are 3 parts to every illusion.

  First, the Pledge: Do you know this woman?

  Have you seen her before?

  She is an ordinary single woman.

  She is placed in a simple home.

  She lives there alone

  The doors and windows all locked

  Normal locks

  The same as you and I have on our homes.

  You can check them yourselves.

  No trap doors, no smoke and mirrors.

  Are you watching closely?

  Have I mentioned she is alone?

  Single?

  Watch closely.

  Second, the Turn: and just like that, one day, she is gone.

  Could be anywhere,

  in time you do not even notice.

  And she could be everywhere.

  You might try to remember when it was you saw her last.

  But she is long gone without being gone

  The doors and windows still locked

  The same as you and I have on our homes.

  You can check them yourselves.

  Were you watching closely?

  A large fat crow released from her palm.

  Abra Cadaver.

  Third, the Prestige:

  The illusion is a success when they’re all asking how it’s done

  A disappearing so unconcealed

  An escape so mundane

  Lock picker, knot worker, halter of time

 

‹ Prev