sweet as anything
-the panic first welled up in a train tunnel. i drew a heart-shape on my hand and didn't look at anyone-
when we were little, mama gave us the carrot shaver and we peeled the paper off our crayons in soft, undamaged lengths. we set our nimble papers on the table. we took the naked wax outside.
the curls of their bodies dropped in ribbons, fell sweet as snow as children on a sheet of wax paper held down by our feet. we shaved them down until their thinness made them snap.
-i saw the photograph of her ligature by accident-
-in the photograph, there were bruises everywhere-
periwinkle was my favorite then. burned down to dust-wax clumps on my fingers and dolls. i learned to save it for last. the pointed edge. wished upon waited upon. a star, still possessed of its steeple.
-the skin of her neck, an odd tin blue-
mama laid another sheet of wax paper on top and carried off our anthills to the ironing board.
the iron was ready. you could smell it.
she pressed our curls flat
mottled bleeding blobs, orange flooding green, red
stretching across everything.
-red, stretching across everything-
we couldn't touch them right away. my excitement stippled my pink. burns all over baby fingers. eager as anything.
our curls, ironed out, the wax went hard. we cut out heart shapes. one for you and one for me. these are our pretty things. and mama got out the string.
we put them in the window. mama said kaleidoscope. the shadows centered on our beds. heart shapes scurried from wall to wall to forehead. we held out our hands and grabbed the shadows like butterflies.
-the coroner's report said there was a heart-shape drawn in red ink on the palm of her little hand. she had put it there herself. right in the middle of her left-
-boxes of periwinkle shoved under the bed-
.
6 comments:
Your words both haunt and console me. I gather myself in the picture show and ricochet inbetween.
I love your blog...
:-)
love the vivid images here and the push pull feeling the rhythm gives me
hi doll! thank you!!!! :D i was a bit worried about the form of this thing. and i'm still playing with it, trying to figure out the order of things, and how to go about telling two stories at once. but beyond that, your words bring me back to The Point of all this- this emotion you've described. to be a shoulder for someone else. thank you from the deepest corner of my heart. :)
maggie, thank you!
to catch your attention - the tremendous writer that you are, your grace and skill with imagery and mood, the atmospheres you whirl out - has me floating and smiling. :)
The form, telling two stories at once, was clear to me, and the vulnerability in both. How fragile it all is. And how achingly you've conveyed that.
marylinn, thank you!
i'm learning how to trust voice and process... reach toward patience, toward resolve... toward not rushing or forcing, and just let something be what it is.
thank you for that word: achingly.
it made me ache to write it and it makes me ache to read it.
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