Glow in the dark stars tumble<\/p>\n
into black, their light hanging<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
like the feet<\/p>\n
of a man tied to death. I trace<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
the outlines of memories and pull them<\/p>\n
to my nose, they smell like<\/p>\n
patchouli and my father\u2019s<\/p>\n
velvet coat. Gray shapes<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
dance to the window. Are they<\/p>\n
the ghosts of my dead dogs<\/p>\n
or the angels I overheard<\/p>\n
my mother asking for help? Or maybe just<\/p>\n
teenage headlights, sneaking back into their parents\u2019<\/p>\n
driveway. The laundry<\/p>\n
room moans and shakes<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
behind a poster<\/p>\n
of New York City\u2019s face. The dryer thumps<\/p>\n
against my wall. Round<\/p>\n
round round. Clothes rise<\/p>\n
and fall<\/p>\n
like the air lifting up my chest. My mother\u2019s<\/p>\n
Elvis T-shirt. My father\u2019s white<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
briefs. The noise goes<\/p>\n
in circles. Up<\/p>\n
and down. Taped on the fridge<\/p>\n
is a photo dated two<\/p>\n
days after my birth. My mother is holding<\/p>\n
my head to her chest, my feet swing above<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Elvis\u2019s bleached teeth. And I still remember<\/p>\n
my father<\/p>\n
getting nervous and shouting<\/p>\n
and shutting<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
the door when my brother and I found<\/p>\n
him in his white briefs. Rise<\/p>\n
and fall. I focus on the dark<\/p>\n
and the noise and the clothes<\/p>\n
that make the<\/p>\n
dark warm. Up<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
and down.<\/p>\n
Rise<\/p>\n
and fall. Round<\/p>\n
round round.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I want to pull my knees to my chest<\/p>\n
and make myself small and see<\/p>\n
through like the balled-up sheets<\/p>\n
of cling wrap I find in the drawers of my mother\u2019s<\/p>\n
kitchen. But I don\u2019t do that<\/p>\n
because I wouldn\u2019t be small<\/p>\n
or see through to the people<\/p>\n
sitting across the table. They would still see<\/p>\n
a girl with uncombed hair<\/p>\n
wearing a baggy t-shirt she got free from a bank<\/p>\n
because she never learned<\/p>\n
how to not be ashamed<\/p>\n
of her breasts. And they might find it strange<\/p>\n
if this girl slipped her feet from<\/p>\n
the mud-painted rainboots<\/p>\n
that keep her weighted<\/p>\n
to the government-bought linoleum,<\/p>\n
and then if she pulled<\/p>\n
her feet and the hand-knit socks<\/p>\n
that held them up to the seat of her chair,<\/p>\n
and what if her neck let go<\/p>\n
so that her forehead sat balanced between<\/p>\n
the tops of her knees.<\/p>\n
Yes, that would look strange.<\/p>\n
Instead I move my left thigh<\/p>\n
over my right and tie my calves<\/p>\n
into a knot. I can\u2019t see<\/p>\n
my legs beneath the table<\/p>\n
but I imagine them as the twisted strings<\/p>\n
of green and pink<\/p>\n
taffy my father pulled from his suitcase<\/p>\n
whenever he was afraid<\/p>\n
that he\u2019d been gone<\/p>\n
for too long. Throw away<\/p>\n
your wrappers, he told me. My mother yelled<\/p>\n
when she found them<\/p>\n
rolled into worlds<\/p>\n
and tucked inside<\/p>\n
the corners of kitchen drawers.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Glow-in-the-dark stars tumble \/ into black, their light hanging . . .<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":3716,"template":"","categories":[9,49,119],"tags":[1106,1107,1108,1109,1110],"class_list":["post-3715","article","type-article","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aquifer","category-literary-features","category-poetry","tag-parents","tag-self-consciousness","tag-sitting-in-a-classroom-where-everyone-is-smarter-than-me-except-maybe-that-guy-with-the-taco-tattoo","tag-sleeping-in-my-childhood-bedroom-as-an-adult","tag-sophie-ezzell"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n