That night I jolt awake from the scream
of a thousand sirens
on the dresser
my catcher’s mitt quakes
the baseball rolls off
thuds on the floor
as my parents
pound down the hall
I creep past the bathroom
peek in Evie’s room
Mom holds Evie around the shoulders
Dad opens all her dresser drawers
the closet
peers under her bed:
“I’ll check the car.”
he brushes past
Evie turns to me:
“Mr. Crunch is gone. Somebody
stole him. I’ve looked everywhere.”
step into the room:
“When did you see him last?”
Evie glances at the window:
“I took him to the beach. Do you
think Blas took him?”
“No way.”
not his nature
unless he learned to miniaturize Mr. Crunch
and put him in his pocket
Dad returns:
“Not in the car. We’ll check
the public beach tomorrow.”
I step on the deck outside the kitchen
lean on the railing
the boards are warm under my feet
from the sun that day
the sky looks like torn blue jeans
dark with a line of shredded clouds
the hills chomp back at the sky
red stains the peaks like blood
If Crystal can bury her little sister
in the sand, she can do other
mean things.
as I fall asleep
crickets under my window shriek:
crunch
crunch
crunch