CHARLIE

Charlie’s hung some lights

on the walls of the family room.

Mama won’t like the holes,

but even I think the lights

are pretty.

Every other minute,

Charlie looks at the clock,

her white face glowing

red and then blue in the lights.

Shouldn’t she be here

by now? she says.

She only works ’til seven.

Her voice shakes a little,

and I feel it shake my chest.

Once a parent leaves,

you wonder if it might

happen again.

She’ll be here soon, Charlotte,

Aunt Bee says.

Mama says Charlie’s

a terrible nickname for a girl.

I think it fits her just fine,

since Charlie’s the only girl

I know who climbs trees

higher than me and

drives Granddad’s tractor

and swims in a dirty pond

full of snakes.

Aunt Bee puts her arm

around Charlie,

and even though she’s twelve,

Charlie looks real small.

Aunt Bee smiles at me.

You’ll lead the song? she says.

She’s asked me once already.

I think she’s just trying

to fill the space where

Mama should be by now.