The Poet X(27)
I didn’t see how I could
by stealing kisses
as I whispered promises into ears that I know now weren’t listening.
I pretend not to see him in the hallway.
I pretend not to see them at home.
The ultimate actress because I’m always pretending, pretending I’m blind, pretending I’m fine; I should win an Oscar I do it so well.
Is this remorse? Is this worthy of forgiveness?
Reminders
I lie in bed doing homework
while Twin watches anime on YouTube.
He’s stopped wearing his headphones, so that I can listen in.
(It’s technically breaking Mami’s rules, but she would never punish Twin.) Halfway through an episode a commercial endorsed by one of last year’s Winter Olympians comes on.
And I must make a noise,
because Twin looks over his shoulder at me.
He quiets his laptop. “Are you okay?”
But I just bury my head in my pillow.
And remind myself to breathe.
Writing
The next day and the one after that, I spend every class writing in my journal.
Ms. Galiano sends me to the guidance counselor but I refuse to talk to her either until she threatens to call home, so I make up an excuse about cramps and stress.
Hiding in my journal
is the only way I know not to cry.
My house is a tomb.
Even Twin has stopped speaking to me as if he’s afraid a single word will cause my facade to crack.
I hear Mami on the phone
making plans to send me to D.R. for the summer; the ultimate consequence:
let that good ol’ island living fix me.
Every time I think about being away from home, from English, from Twin and Caridad, I feel like a ship at sea: all the possibilities to end up anywhere I want, all the possibilities to be lost.
What I’d Like to Tell Aman When He Sends Another Apology Message:
Your hands on mine were cold Your lips near my ear were warm Your “I’m sorry” fervent
But you have no need to apologize I know silence well
None of this was ever about you You were just a failed rebellion (Of course I’m lying You were everything
But I can’t have you
Without entering a fight I won’t win) I know none of these were battles That I wanted in the first place
Wednesday, November 21
Favors
The night before Thanksgiving, Twin pulls my headphones out, offers me a sliced-up apple and a soft smile.
“You haven’t been eating much.”
I take the plate and stare at the fruit, surprised he’s even noticed.
“I’m just not hungry.”
I eat everything but the seeds.
Because I know that Twin is worried.
And I really can’t resist apples.
“Xiomara, can I ask you a favor?
Will you write a poem about love?
One about being thankful
that a person is in your life?”
I look at my brother blankly.
I wonder if he knows
how close he is
to having his face pierced by apple seeds.
Something in my gut
rebels against the apple
and I feel it wanting to come all the way back up my throat.
For a second I think of all the poems that I wrote for Aman,
but I push the thought away.
I shove the plate at Twin.
“You want me to write a love poem for your . . . for White Boy?
Was that what this apple was all about?”
Twin stares at me, baffled, and then something clears on his face.
He pulls my empty plate against his chest, like armor.
“His name is Cody.
And the poem was actually for you.
I thought it would be cathartic to write something beautiful for yourself.”
Pulled Back
I’m helping Mami dice potatoes and beets for her ensalada rusa when the phone rings.
She answers and passes it to me.
And I can’t imagine who it is.
Caridad’s voice screeches in my ear: “Listen, woman, I know you’re upset.
I know you got a lot going on.
But don’t you dare ignore me for two weeks straight.
Just because you got your cell taken you can’t call nobody?”
And instead of getting angry, I actually tear up.
It’s such a small thing. But also so normal.
Caridad never takes my shit
and she lets me know this time is no different.
She sighs and her voice softens.
“I’m worried about you, Xio. Don’t shut us out.”
And she can’t see me nodding through the phone.
But I murmur an apology. And tell her I have to go.
And I know she knows I’m really saying “thank you.”
Thursday, November 22
On Thanksgiving
El Día de Acción de Gracias, Twin and I join Mami at church and help spoon mashed potatoes and peas and other American things we never eat at home
onto homeless people’s plates.