Me (Moth)

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Me (Moth) Page 9

by Amber McBride

It helps to know there are lights

  & noise close by, it makes me feel alive

  alive.

  My scar aches & wants to burst open.

  I tuck my knees to my chin.

  I won’t do it,

  I won’t trust Sani with his lava hair,

  campfire eyes & five finger grass tattoo

  ever again.

  He has to be doing

  someone else’s bidding.

  I danced

  & he left,

  just like

  everyone else.

  ALONE

  I don’t know if Sani has been gone

  for a day or two or three.

  I have forgotten to count the moons

  & I sleep in the car

  & only think of the graveyard

  of stars.

  I think tomorrow is the day.

  I’ll walk away,

  to the Walmart.

  Disappear.

  NOTE LEFT IN SANI’S CAR

  “All My Life,” a Song by Texada

  I dedicate

  this song

  to you.

  I was

  the sticky filling

  that survived

  the crash

  because I had to live

  for this.

  I think

  there might have been

  a line fating us to meet.

  I think it was buried

  red & bright in the earth,

  strung from the Motherland

  to the candy bar car.

  It yanked me

  hard enough

  to fracture.

  Soft enough

  to make sure

  I crossed your path.

  Do you think

  there is still a string

  underground

  connecting us?

  When the car

  crashed, did you feel

  me shatter?

  When you close

  your eyes & play

  & sing, do you feel

  me dancing?

  If I melt away,

  reassemble wrong,

  will you find me?

  I am leaving.

  It might be best.

  Just promise me you’ll audition

  & take your pills

  & live, live, live.

  HOW OUR WORLD WAS CREATED

  I am halfway to Walmart,

  tears making riverbeds

  of my cheeks.

  I am ready to disappear

  when I hear Sani yelling

  from the Wrangler.

  I keep walking

  on the side of the road.

  He yells again, begs me to stop.

  I keep walking.

  He pulls off the road,

  jumps out of the truck

  & stands in front of me,

  a cigarette dangling

  between his soft lips.

  I pause

  & pause.

  Sani has dark circles under his eyes.

  I wish I could scrub them away with my sleeve

  like I scrubbed away the lipstick

  his mom left on his cheek

  eons ago.

  He collapses in front of me,

  hand gripped around the note & the application.

  Moth, honey, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.

  I swallow hard.

  I pull the cigarette from his mouth

  & I put my hands firmly on his cheeks.

  You have to want to take care of yourself, Sani!

  I can’t keep convincing you!

  Leave me alone!

  & I leave.

  BUT I COME BACK

  I feel pulled too tight;

  I find my way back

  to Sani’s front door

  & when he sees me

  he holds me like

  he will never ever

  let me go again.

  OUR FOURTH WORLD

  We go on a night hike—

  it is cooler, but the bugs hum too loud.

  Sani says, You look different,

  happy, blurry around the edges.

  I say, You look different,

  buzzing, thrumming like a guitar string.

  Is this the Glittering World?

  Sani says, I hope so. This is where I want to stay.

  I am going to audition. I am going to try, Moth.

  SANI: PEOPLE STAY AWAY

  We stay far away

  from the ring of fire,

  blazing with people gathered.

  We stand near a dry bush,

  silent as snow hiding

  from the sun.

  Ends & strands of conversations

  drift toward us …

  So much for getting help.

  Sani turns away.

  His lava hair falls in his face

  & I am glad he decided not to cut it.

  But then there is music

  & Sani’s eyes brighten.

  You should practice,

  go play something, I say. I’ll wait here.

  Sani rocks on his heels,

  steps toward the fire.

  He is offered a guitar

  & he plays

  & sings in a

  language I don’t know

  while I dance

  in the shadows.

  I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THE (MYSTERY) PILLS ARE FOR …

  What are the pills for, Sani?

  I have a waterfall in my mind.

  Should you take the pills, Sani?

  & sometimes it pours over my eyes.

  Want me to get your pills, Sani?

  & makes the world tilt different.

  Why are you crying, Sani?

  More colorful, more vast.

  Let me hold you, Sani?

  They are for my mind.

  I wonder why he threw them away (again) then.

  SANI’S DAD INVITES US TO DINNER

  To yell at us

  while clutching the cloth of pills—

  the ones Sani threw away.

  Tell her, whoever she is, that you need these. Sani translates.

  Tell her that if she cares about you,

  she will make you take them, Sani translates.

  Why is she so different

  from the others? Sani’s dad yells.

  Sani takes the pills.

  Throws them back

  in the trash.

  She’s worth it!

  You can’t audition acting like this!

  his dad says.

  Sani stands.

  I stopped playing when you

  left me.

  I started singing again

  because of Moth!

  She makes you sicker, Sani!

  Can’t you see how you avoid the world?

  His dad storms out the front door,

  which swings back & forth

  & back & forth

  even though

  there is no breeze.

  WE HAVE A MOMENT OF SILENCE

  Sani’s dad is gone for

  one

  six

  ten breaths

  before he rushes back in

  & stands in front of us

  like he has seen a ghost.

  SKETCH ME

  Sani’s dad slams the table.

  I feel the earthquake of it in my spirit.

  He scrambles around the kitchen

  until he finds a pencil & a paper.

  He says, Does she know you can draw?

  Sketch her, Sani.

  Sani holds the pencil,

  smiles at me through blurry eyes

  & begins.

  & I don’t

  & I don’t

  & I don’t

  understand why sketching

  makes him cry.

  SANI’S DAD IS A MEDICINE MAN WHOSE FATHER KNEW A HOODOO MAN

  Sani’s dad opens a drawer,

  cradles a photo between

  his shaking hands
/>   like a precious offering

  before he gently places

  the image on the table

  next to Sani’s sketch.

  My fingers grow toward it.

  Sani’s fingers beat me to it.

  Why do you have a photo of Moth? he asks.

  Sani’s dad whispers:

  Her grandfather

  gave it to me

  a long time ago.

  She feels different

  because this was planned.

  This is Hoodoo work.

  I stare at the photo; flat

  against the oak,

  my gray-bearded grandfather’s

  hand atop my head, smiling—

  making his wrinkles deeper.

  His father turns the photo over—

  My friend, I know I ask too much,

  but if your son can help her home,

  she’ll teach him how to live.

  I don’t know how Grandfather knew

  I would run away with a boy

  with waterfall hair

  & campfire eyes.

  GRANDFATHER LEFT A LETTER FOR ME

  You will have trouble crossing

  from here to there.

  Such is often the way with crossings,

  but you can’t stay here, in your cocoon.

  Moth, you must live big,

  grow sturdy wings

  that can fly you

  to a different sky.

  I hear Grandfather chanting—

  The ancestors are with you, Moth,

  you are never alone.

  I taught you. You have magic in your bones.

  Open your eyes, open your eyes,

  I would never leave you trapped—defenseless.

  Go to the crossroads

  & walk north home.

  THE ROOT OF THE ROOT

  I look up: I don’t understand—

  home is east.

  Sani’s face fractures.

  He rips at his hair.

  How dare he.

  He yells.

  How dare he.

  I am wispy,

  on the verge of fainting.

  I don’t understand.

  Please explain.

  Sani’s dad grabs Sani,

  who crumbles like a landslide into him.

  His dad cries, He knew you had a gift.

  He knew what would happen.

  If I did not agree,

  she would have roamed forever

  & you would have folded inward into nothing.

  I never thought it would work.

  I am fragile,

  on the verge of running.

  I don’t understand.

  Sani heaves & looks up at me:

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t breathe.

  I feel gone,

  like a shadow.

  I don’t understand.

  But Sani keeps crying.

  I want to reach for him,

  but he slips through my fingers.

  HUMMINGBIRD MOTH

  Sani is the moon & something keeps me

  from fluttering to him—

  I am trapped in a jar,

  watching Sani

  storm & wail

  in his father’s arms.

  His father says,

  One day the five finger grass

  appeared on your skin.

  Like an omen.

  Sani lifts his head,

  eyes darting,

  he reaches out

  for my hand,

  but he can’t seem to grasp it.

  Moths are both omens

  & miracles.

  My scar inches open

  & open

  & open.

  & OPEN

  There was a crash

  & the car split in two

  & we fell out

  like sticky centers

  of candy bars.

  & OPEN & OPEN

  Sani’s face is fracturing;

  fault lines collect

  as though an earthquake

  has erupted somewhere deep in him.

  I am being selfish.

  You have to leave, Moth.

  Is your father mad?

  You have to leave.

  I don’t have a way home.

  You have to leave, Moth.

  But I love you?

  & OPEN & OPEN & OPEN

  Sani breaks at the knees

  & hits the ground.

  You’re my heart, Moth. (Sani hits his chest.)

  I love you, but you have to leave.

  Why?

  (I think I know why.)

  Because you’re not real, Moth—your ashes are in a vase.

  I am right here.

  (I sometimes float away,

  I sometimes misplace entire weeks.)

  You’re a ghost.

  I said I won’t leave you.

  (I’ll haunt you if you let me.)

  You have to leave.

  “Summer Song” lyric: Darling, let me haunt you.

  “Summer Song” lyric: Honey, I can’t.

  There is a whole lot of heaven

  waiting for you.

  TRUTH

  Call

  me

  (Moth)

  *

  Call

  me

  (GHOST)

  MOTH:

  a) nocturnal butterfly

  b) night hunter

  c) ghost

  (Moth) There is a whole lot of heaven

  waiting for you.

  —Gray-Bearded Grandfather

  (Rootworker)

  THIS MORNING …

  I woke up dead.

  I WOKE UP DEAD

  I Woke Up Dead

  I Woke Up Dead

  I Woke Up Dead

  I Woke Up Dead

  I Woke Up Dead

  I Woke Up Dead

  I Woke Up Dead

  I Woke Up Dead

  I Woke Up Dead

  I Woke Up Dead

  I can’t understand

  why my chest keeps thinking

  it has to move up & down—

  if I am already

  gone

  gone

  gone.

  HOODOO FABLE

  I woke up dead,

  intention gone wolf.

  I fell into the wind & let it support

  the soles of my weightless feet.

  I forgot every spell, I braided my hair,

  I grew it out, green & terrible.

  Everything moves to ash in my mouth.

  I kept morning rituals (wash, brush, talk),

  but no one saw me.

  I accidently haunted Aunt Jack.

  I picked up things that are not easy

  to drop.

  A life. A boy.

  Things from which I can’t loosen my grip:

  a boy who my Hoodoo grandfather

  knew had a gift for seeing the dead.

  No one tells you

  you can fall in love

  for the first time

  when you are already

  gone.

  SPHINX MOTH

  Sani is precise. He sees

  past the veil.

  He sees me.

  I gasp for air I don’t need:

  No one ignored me

  because no one saw me.

  No one sees the sphinx next to the trio

  of giant pyramids.

  I’ve been entombed

  in the dirt.

  Covered in dust,

  growing wings

  only to leave?

  TRUTH: ACCIDENT.

  When the car split in half like a candy bar

  & we (Mom & Dad & brother & I)

  fell onto the pavement like sticky filling,

  we all made it to the hospital.

  Aunt Jack prayed & prayed, but there

  was only enough prayer for one of us to walk out.

  (Only Aunt Jack walked out.)

  My
wild heart didn’t think it could die.

  So I stayed

  & punished myself

  for living.

  & now I can’t stop falling

  falling

  falling.

  SANI FINDS (GHOST ME)

  I see ghosts.

  Like me.

  Nothing like you.

  Like me?

  Not alive. But nothing like you.

  That is why you left here?

  Yes.

  That is what the pills are for?

  Why your mind is always busy?

  Why you always feel so heavy?

  Yes. I feel all the sadness.

  Music helps?

  Music abandoned me

  until you came along.

  Will you miss me?

  Yes.

  Will you audition?

  Promise.

  Do I have to go?

  Yes.

  No.

  Yes. Honey, yes. I am so sorry.

  DRIVE TO THE CROSSROADS

  It turns out

  when you step out of a cocoon,

  you can step out

  less alive

  but light enough to fly.

  It turns out

  there is enough

  magic & love

  in the universe

  to mold

  your own death mask

  but not fully die.

  (MOTH) NATURAL HISTORY

  It’s never the song.

  It’s the movement of gray notes stacked

  over dark matter.

  My voice a whisper to everyone except myself.

  Is there a light? A moon to follow, farther down in my center.

 

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