WEEK 32

When it was late
and you said,
I’m off the clock. C’mon, let’s go,
at first I thought I was in trouble.
I looked into the deepest parts of myself
to figure what new thing I’d done wrong.
But then we got there.
It was so fun, James!
I’ve never done that before.
CRACK
CRACK
CRACK
Swinging the bat so hard.
Am I really a natural?
I’ve never been a natural at anything.
Batting cages.
Who knew?
That was so fun, James.
Did you break house arrest rules
just for me?
Will you get in trouble?
Can we go again?
Yeah?

What do I need?
Good question, Mrs. B.
I need a time machine
so I can go back
and never ever ever EVER
tell you
that we need more nursing hours.
A time machine to bring Marisol back.
A time machine to talk to Dad on that rainy night.
A time machine for so many things.
Can you do that?
Huh?
’Cause that’s what I need,
Mrs. B.

Dear Dr. Sawyer,
OK. For real. Please write me back.
This is Timothy Davidson again.
Levi is getting sick
all the time
because of his trach
and the germs going
straight into his lungs.
Please help him not need the trach.
Have you seen Star Wars?
Please, Dr. Sawyer,
you’re our only hope.
Timothy Davidson

This little booger.
He will sign milk and more and please.
He will sign Mama and music.
He will sign hot and cold.
He will sign hurt.
He will sign dog when I need a haircut.
But he will not sign brother.
He just won’t do it.

I didn’t want to say this
but I can’t get it out of my mind,
like that red dust in space
that makes big clouds around a supernova
and doesn’t move for eons,
that’s what this is doing in my brain,
sitting heavy and messy,
getting all over everything else
so that it doesn’t matter what I think.
There are little parts of this stuck inside:
Carla Ramirez,
Flying Squirrel Extraordinaire,
she said,
Looking into a facility might not be a bad idea
until you get back on your feet.
I can help
if you need me to.
You just let me know.
And her card is on our fridge
held up by the magnet we got at the beach
two years ago
when we did things like go to the beach.

“

Sofia dances through the living room
headphones on
but so loud
I can hear all the songs.
Theresa is out back kicking the soccer ball
up against the house
bang bang bang bang.
Alé’s tuba is nonstop
even during the summer
because marching band tryouts
are in a few months.
José is killing things on the Xbox
bullets ricochet off rocks and Kevlar.
I’m not interested in killing anything
not today.
I worry about Levi
home alone with Mary
without me there to hear the things,
those things that come out of her mouth.
The garage is the only quiet place,
the only place where my mind can hear itself.
But there’s already someone in the turtle car.
Isa curled up in the passenger seat.
Her glasses on the tip of her nose.
A book in her hands.
I slide in next to her,
shut the door quietly,
put my hands on the steering wheel
then my forehead on it, too.
Isa’s hand,
light as a butterfly,
lands on the back of my neck.
And neither of us says one word.