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a voice speaks to rheumy stars deadpan witness no call and response or supplicant's hope all this hurts the ocean suggests as if waves could privilege ear's dumb gestures or a ghost of a sentence learn to read its own dried ink
Copyright © 2010 by Maxine Chernoff. Used by permission of the author.
Even as an embryo, she made room for "the other guy." Slick and bloody, she emerged quietly: Why spoil the doctor's best moment? When Dad ran over her tricycle, she smiled, and when Mom drowned her kittens, she curtsied, a Swiss statuette. Her teachers liked the way she sat at her desk, composed as yesterday's news. In high school she decorated her locker with heart-shaped doilies and only went so far, a cartoon kiss at the door. She read the classics, The Glamorous Dolly Madison, and dreamed of marrying the boy in the choir whose voice never changed.