Category: Uncategorized

show them maturation under pressure,
what squalling children do.
show them your doll collection.
show them your hands.
say
magic magic clap clap clap
look who got her hands back

this next section is called,

throwback poems

The idea of
you
touching me.

“Saturday, and miles to go”

“So, this power outage, it’s all over you said right? Even the coast?”
“Yeah.”
“And what did they instruct you to do, you know, to help us?”
He turns around to face me. I shrink but I am not shaking. My frown is set.
“What we are doing: bringing you supplies, telling you about curfew before we enforce it, and patrolling the area to make sure there aren’t any lootings?”
“But what about heat? We all need the electricity to turn on the heat even if it’s gas.”
“They are working on it.”
This was frustrating.
“Who? PECO? A lot of us don’t have access to the internet currently and we don’t have cars or CB radios. It must be hard to get all of the information out to everyone. And to get enough members to work on it at once.”
I had said too much and fell back in my seat letting silence breathe between us. It’s not that I’m impetuous, it’s that I hate feeling stonewalled. But I understand space and men and the way our eyes kept meeting in the rearview.
“This is a coastal outage,” he hesitated. “And the national guard is going to be visiting all of the major metropolitan cities in the next few days as The Department of Energy works with local suppliers, yes. It will be fixed.”
“It’s kind of scary right? How are they handling gas? Are you guarding the gas stations?”
“Yes,” he was short but added, “People are leaving, going inward, other parts of Pennsylvania aren’t affected. It’s coastal towns and major metropolitan cities.”
“What caused it?”
I was digging my nails into the fabric of my pants trying to get to my thighs to contain me.
“I don’t know.”
I could see the partner heading back.
“Does anyone?”
The little white apple appeared on my phone and I began to tremble again. My laconic companion picked it up gently without taking it off the charger and handed it back to me.
“My partner is getting that man a care package and then has two more houses to go. When he’s done, we have to go to the next street. If you want to keep charging your phone, you can ride to the next block with us.”
The case was cold in my hand and I was already glued to the screen.
“Yes,” I said without thinking. “I’ll go.”
It began: all the notifications popped up in front of me and his partner swung the door open.
“Do you need volunteers?”
“Not yet,” blue eyes cut in.
I nodded, suddenly thwarted and covering my phone.
“She’s gonna ride with us to the next block so her phone can charge more. Is that ok?”
“Ok by me, ok by you?”
The trunk popped. I was acting unphased as if I knew these men and felt safe with them.
“Yes,” I repeated and as Blue Eyes walked around to the trunk, I glanced at my phone. I saw twenty missed calls from home and swallowed.

“So, this power outage, it’s all over you said right? Even the coast?”
“Yeah.”
“And what did they instruct you to do, you know, to help us?”
He turns around to face me. I shrink but I am not shaking. My frown is set.
“What we are doing: bringing you supplies, telling you about curfew before we enforce it, and patrolling the area to make sure there aren’t any lootings?”
“But what about heat? We all need the electricity to turn on the heat even if it’s gas.”
“They are working on it.”
This was frustrating.
“Who? PECO? A lot of us don’t have access to the internet currently and we don’t have cars or CB radios. It must be hard to get all of the information out to everyone. And to get enough members to work on it at once.”
I had said too much and fell back in my seat letting silence breathe between us. It’s not that I’m impetuous, it’s that I hate feeling stonewalled. But I understand space and men and the way our eyes kept meeting in the rearview.
“This is a coastal outage,” he hesitated. “And the national guard is going to be visiting all of the major metropolitan cities in the next few days as The Department of Energy works with local suppliers, yes. It will be fixed.”
“It’s kind of scary right? How are they handling gas? Are you guarding the gas stations?”
“Yes,” he was short but added, “People are leaving, going inward, other parts of Pennsylvania aren’t affected. It’s coastal towns and major metropolitan cities.”
“What caused it?”
I was digging my nails into the fabric of my pants trying to get to my thighs to contain me.
“I don’t know.”
I could see the partner heading back.
“Does anyone?”
The little white apple appeared on my phone and I began to tremble again. My laconic companion picked it up gently without taking it off the charger and handed it back to me.
“My partner is getting that man a care package and then has two more houses to go. When he’s done, we have to go to the next street. If you want to keep charging your phone, you can ride to the next block with us.”
The case was cold in my hand and I was already glued to the screen.
“Yes,” I said without thinking. “I’ll go.”
It began: all the notifications popped up in front of me and his partner swung the door open.
“Do you need volunteers?”

They lead me to their squad car in silence and ask me to sit in the backseat. My mood swings again but I clutch the edges of my jacket to sit still. Climbing in, cavalier, as if I have nothing to worry about it, locked in the back of a prison cell, I am really truly pulsing.. Brown eyes gets in the drivers’ seat and I watch blue eyes walk further up the block. Brown eyes grins at me as he settles, reaching his hand out for my phone.
“Don’t worry, I won’t look at it. Just going to put it on the charger.”
Sometimes when people ask me to do something, I shake. I begin to quiver as I perform the task. I am sure there is something wrong with me, my outfit, the way I write my name, sign a check, do my thumbprint. I am sure they see it: the fallacy, the fool, the jest. I am wearing a flesh costume of a woman assured in her self and today I am playing the part of Samantha Liss, twenty six, and quite possibly unafraid of anything. She has a big handsome boyfriend and wonderful parents and a home she loves.
“Thank you,” I hand him the phone.
I watch him fumble. His hands are dry, cracking around the cuticles. He has short stubby hands and nails and I can tell without even getting close to him that his breath smells like coffee, that he is duped sometimes but proficient at others, and that he finds my muted sensuality alluring enough to make chit chat. I clear my throat.
“Got it,” he says glancing back at me.
His smile is kind and he has age lines. I spectate he is thirty six years old. His fingers are bare though he may not wear a ring while he is working. He looked forward and I watched him, glancing away when I caught his eyes in the rearview. His partner was talking to a neighbor.
“Did you lose power?”
“Me? Uhhh yeah, we all did. I mean most of  us did.”
“What area are you in?”
“Oh, this area, closer to Snyder though, and a little west.”
I never wanted to see this man again.
“That whole area is out?”
“Most of it yeah,” he nodded watching his partner.
This is when I sort of slither back in. The shaking stops. I’m suddenly cool to the look and the touch and I’m biting my lip, cocking my head. This is when I settle back in. My eyes are set on the rearview waiting for the next glimpse. Make myself shrink in the back like my car seat is too tight. I need to get out. Watch you in the rearview as you watch your partner. This is when I begin to stretch and I am no longer shaking. He looks up at me again and I hold the gaze but taken to another place. What am I, little worm? I held it up to the sun after the rain settled and the sky began it’s slow unveil. I held that worm up to the sun and then dropped it on the concrete. Began hopping up and down on it until it was smashed to bits and stuck to my shoe and I could lean down and whisper at it’s dismemberment. Unafraid unafraid unafraid.

“Do you need to charge your phone?”
I am debating something and trying to maintain his eye contact without break at the same time.  I had a jar I needed opening. Maybe I can learn to fire a gun. What can I safely say?
“Yes, that would be great. I just have to shut the burners off. I have a gas stove,” I said.
“We’ll wait. You can use our car charger. An iphone?”
“Oh, sure I have a cord,” I sort of sing gliding away.
Hopping over to the stove, leaving the door cracked, not wanting them to enter or witness but know I was coming back, I see Genevive huddled in a corner, afraid.
“Good,” I whisper. “I’m glad you didn’t play friendly cat today.”
I shut the burner off, disappointed as it has come to a full boil and I can quickly make the beans. No, this is better. Appear stalwart. Give him a name. Ask a question only every pause. Be patient. I am hopping back to the door and trying not to rush. I never untie my shoes, I just slip them off and I try, at first, to shove my whole foot in the right shoe. This will fail. I have to pull my sock. I have to temper. Calm down. I’m excited by prospect, any prospect, of information. Relax. I am untying my shoe. Bring the man the jar of applesauce. I am slipping my right foot back in. I can’t because my boyfriend is strong enough. I am feeling the foot hit the cushion. Tell them you don’t know many people here.
“Stop it,” I accidentally hiss out loud.
Untying my left shoe, I am also closely listening to see if they are making any conversation. Not a word passes between them. When I throw the door back open they are in the same exact posture as I left them: stoic, sturdy, waiting.
“K. Ready. Oh the cord. I mean my phone. I have to grab my phone sorry.”
“Don’t worry. Take your time. We have a charger.”
I close the door completely this time. It is much too cold. I am debating something but I walk over and grab the phone off the end table without going back upstairs for the other phone.
“I could say it’s my boyfriends.”
Your boyfriend would have his phone on him.
“Yeah.”
Before I open the door one more time, I practice in my head. My name is Samantha Liss. I have lived here for three years, my friends have been checking on me intermittently and my parents are in perfect health. I work as a software technician and my boyfriend is a carpenter. He built all the shelves in our house. I feel well taken care of by him.
“Ok, perfect,” I sing opening the door wide.

“Hello!?!?!”
This time they yell and knock on the window. I glide over the floor in my mismatched slipper socks, the ones with the padded footing. They are on the wrong way, one inside out and one is falling off the foot a little so it looks like an elf’s slipper but I am going for it. Today I will answer the door. Today I will look someone in the eye. Today I will say exactly what I need. Throwing the door open, I have rehearsed all yesterday,
“Thank God! I am almost out of food.”
It is two police officers and I immediately regret not just my choice of words, but my choice of outfit, location, occupation, history and opening the door.
“Hello officers.”
They are two men, white, with light hair both of them. The one with blue eyes looks me up and down, gauging age no doubt. I appear, I begin guessing, to be about 26 in their eyes; a child worth protecting.
“We are visiting each house to check in on your supplies and to let you know about the enforced curfew going forward.”
“Enforced?’
The shorter one with light brown eyes cuts in. He stares mostly at my mouth.
“We will be patrolling the areas starting at 11 pm to ensure everyone is where they need to be.’
“Where do we need to be?” I smile
Don’t be so coy. I stop myself. Ask them for batteries, potable water. Don’t chirp too much. Don’t invite them in. Don’t show them your beans or ID or any safes hidden in a closet. Do nothing but stand there, polite, remember your southern upbringing. They are busy. There is no need to invite them inside.The short one laughs a little, lowers his head. I did not realize it was drizzling. The air is cool and shocks me. Their caps are brimmed with droplets. I see their breath with each word. I need heat.
“It’s just a precaution, ma’am…”
“Samantha,” I lean forward extending my hand.
“Samantha.”
His hands are ice.
“You can call me Sam.”
I smile with every tooth and nod enthusiastically as he explains that they will have cars patrolling areas like shopping centers and parks and other places of congregation just to keep everyone safe.
“Philly has a lot of streets to work.”
“We aren’t worried about these side streets,” blue eyes says. “We are just letting everyone know and checking in. We have a jug of water and some batteries to offer. Do you need a flashlight?”
“Yes. Do you have anything else?”
“First aid items: band aids, gauze, gloves.”
“I’ll take the care package. Thank you.”
Blue eyes is back to the squad car parked a couple houses down. Brown eyes is fixated on my mouth. I have crossed my ankles to try to hide my socks.
“A lot of these houses are abandoned?”
He waves his hand in the air signaling to the rest of the block. I am debating something and trying to maintain his eye contact without break at the same time.
“Yes… They can’t sell them so a bunch of these houses are empty.”
“Do you have friends around here? Checking in?”
“Of course,” I beam.
I am ingratiating.
“Do you live alone?”
“No, my partner is here. He went to check on his mother.”
He nodded dutifully as his partner strode up.
“Ok, two jugs of water, one flashlight, two packs of batteries and a first aid kit. We’ll try to come by again to check in.”
“Of course, I’m really all set.”
“Didn’t you say you were out of food?”
Brown eyes narrowed.
“Oh,” I turned to look behind me, knowing I need to stop the water or return to it.
“I thought you were my boyfriend. I was playing a joke. You know the hero returns,” I throw my hands up to show them the helpless mistress. “I’m honestly fine.”
They tip their hats at me and I am freezing.
“When will the power be back on?”
“Not long now. It was a short circuit. Should be on in a couple of days.”
“A short circuit? The whole town or…”
Good, pretend, be nice, smile, look like a doe.
“Yeah…”
But I interrupted, “Before my phone went dead, I swear I read it was up and down the coast. Are you going to every neighborhood?”
They looked at me and I looked at them. My cheeks were pallid. I didn’t want to be at this door.
“Yes,” tall blue eyes finally said. “We are going to every neighborhood.”
Doubtful, I nodded and began to shut the door.
“Ma’am.”
“Yes.”
“Do you need to charge your phone?”
I am debating something and trying to maintain his eye contact without break at the same time.

“When they ask you how you are, do not say fearful. Narrow your eyes and kiss your teeth but don’t say afraid.”

–Yrsa Daley Ward, Bone