Walking on Glass Read online

  echoes through

  my mind.

  I race downtown

  with soap and paint thinner.

  Instead of freeing the eagle,

  I smudge it into

  nothing.

  VISITING MOM

  The beeping

  from her machines

  shrieks.

  A reminder

  her soul is tethered to the ground,

  a captive falcon,

  circling in confusion,

  longing for someone

  to set it

  free.

  I remember the Mulier’s eagle

  smudging away,

  and I think maybe sometimes

  nonexistence

  is better than being

  caged.

  JUST DO IT

  I stand watching her.

  I want to smack her

  for putting us through this.

  I want to scream,

  “Why didn’t you want to live?

  You’re supposed to want to stay here

  with us!”

  If she’s going to die,

  she should get it over with

  and just

  do

  it.

  MAYBE

  Dad’s right.

  Maybe

  Mom will fight.

  Maybe

  she will come back.

  Maybe

  things will change.

  Maybe…

  A PARTY

  Right now,

  I want to party

  as much as I want to

  shove glass under my fingernails.

  Jack says, “I’ll pick you up.”

  So I go.

  THE NEW GIRL

  At the party

  there’s a

  new girl.

  Alissa.

  Alissa

  smiles at me.

  I smile

  back.

  AM I?

  Jack yells

  at his mother.

  Her tears dry

  on the cold linoleum.

  Like the blood

  I found on the floor

  of my house.

  Later, I say,

  “You should be nicer

  to your mother.”

  Jack says,

  “You’re turning into a wuss

  like your father.”

  And I wonder

  if I am.

  JUST BECAUSE

  I can’t believe it.

  Just because I blow up at some kid,

  I have to see some

  school counselor,

  who is going to overanalyze

  everything

  I do.

  It’s bad enough that I have to see

  Dr. Mac once a week,

  because of my stupid mother.

  I’m refusing to go.

  ANXIETY ATTACKS

  I have to dissolve

  one tiny tablet

  under my tongue

  every night.

  But unlike the pill,

  the pain won’t

  melt away.

  ALISSA’S SONG

  Alissa sings in the choir.

  A soloist,

  with a voice

  beautiful enough

  to make anyone’s problems

  disappear.

  Almost.

  By the way,

  I didn’t mean it.

  Mom’s not

  stupid.

  WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?

  I stand over Mom,

  shaking inside,

  and wonder why she did it.

  Why she didn’t think

  about anyone

  but herself.

  Why she didn’t think

  about us.

  Why she didn’t think

  about me.

  AFTER SCHOOL

  Jack and some of the Crypt

  push around

  some kids from the choir.

  Alissa is there.

  “Knock it off, Jack,” I say.

  “You gonna stop us?” he asks.

  I don’t answer.

  “Loosen up.”

  Jack shoves my shoulder

  and walks away.

  JACK AND ME

  I sit on my bed,

  staring at the walls.

  When we were eight,

  Jack and I rode our bikes to the lake.

  I remember having to pedal

  against the wind

  and was tired by the time we got

  there.

  When we were swimming,

  a big wave washed over me

  and was pulling me out

  deeper into the lake.

  Jack grabbed my arm.

  He dragged me out of the water.

  After that, we promised we’d be

  best friends forever.

  NURSES

  Nurses lurk

  around Mom’s bed

  like vultures.

  But Dad guards her—

  a lion

  ready to pounce on

  the vultures as they swoop

  to take away his mate.

  He doesn’t seem to know

  what the vultures

  already know.

  She’s gone.

  WALKING ON BROKEN GLASS

  If Mom came home,

  things wouldn’t change.

  Her mood would always flip

  from bad to worse

  in a matter of seconds,

  and for the rest of our lives

  Dad and I would

  be walking on

  shards of glass

  from a broken

  chandelier.

  ALISSA

  After French class,

  Alissa says, “Bonjour.

  Comment ça va?”

  I say, “Lahblah.”

  But she doesn’t

  seem to mind.

  HOMEWORK

  Dad says, “Do your homework.

  It’s important to get good grades

  so you can go to college.”

  I won’t go to college.

  Mom’s machines suck the

  money out of our lives.

  Leaving nothing.

  MONEY

  Jack has so much

  money

  now

  he just buys things

  without looking

  at how much they cost.

  THE CONVERSATION

  When I was fourteen,

  I was suspended from school

  because I was caught with drugs.

  Mom freaked.

  She yelled, “Drugs will take you on

  the road to nowhere.

  They’ll control your life

  and you’ll end up a nobody

  behind caged walls.

  Don’t let anything trap

  you like that.”

  I wonder if she knew then

  that she’d be the one

  to trap me.

  TALKING

  Dr. Mac asks,

  “How is school?”

  “Great.”

  “Do you have friends there?”

  “There’s the girl I like, Alissa,

  and there’s Jack.”

  “Jack’s your best friend?”

  “I guess,” I say.

  “You guess?”

  “He’s changing.”

  “How’s that?” he asks.

  I go on to tell him about

  the look in Jack’s eyes

  when he beat that kid up.

  And how he took his shoes.

  “Why do you suppose

  Jack would steal the shoes

  for you?” Dr. Mac asks.

  “Huh?”

  I look at him,

  confused.

  IF I COULD GO BACK

  My teacher asks everyone,

  “If you could change

  anything in history,

 
what would it be?”

  Kids say things like,

  I’d prevent wars

  or Bin Laden and Hitler

  wouldn’t have been born.

  Other kids nod their heads to agree.

  When the teacher asks me,

  I say,

  “Four months ago,

  I would have come home

  five minutes earlier.”

  Everyone looks away from me

  like my face is on

  sideways.

  THE HOUSE

  It’s too quiet

  at home,

  and it smells different.

  There’s no longer

  the scent of the fresh flowers

  Mom always kept

  in the living room.

  Instead I smell

  dust, rot, and,

  even after cleaning the floor,

  blood.

  Why can I still smell

  the blood?

  THE DATE

  Jack calls.

  “Come on a run with the gang.

  We’ll have a blast.”

  “I can’t. I have a date

  with Alissa.”

  “Pussy whipped,”

  Jack jokes.

  I don’t answer.

  “Later then.” He hangs up.

  I borrow Dad’s car

  to pick up Alissa.

  After the show she asks,

  “How’s your mother?”

  “Same, I guess.”

  Without saying anything,

  she takes my hand

  and I notice I can

  breathe.

  AFTER MY DATE

  Everything seems normal.

  Like nothing has happened.

  Like Mom never did it.

  Like it’s all a dream.

  I look in Mom’s room

  and expect to find her there.

  But she’s not.

  I pull her picture

  out of my pocket

  and rip it in half,

  dropping it in the garbage

  as I leave her room.

  I’M SORRY

  Clear tape

  works miracles

  on the back

  of old photographs.

  MOTHERS

  Jack can’t see

  mothers are fragile

  like a robin’s egg

  easily broken

  by a child’s hand.

  Every day

  I make sure

  I’m extra nice

  to Jack’s mother.

  So she knows

  someone cares.

  THINKING BACK

  As I sit on the couch

  staring at a cushion,

  in silence,

  I keep seeing Mom

  curled up and gripping

  this cushion on this couch,

  alone,

  crying

  in the dark.

  Instead of going to her,

  I walked by.

  Saying nothing,

  like she was

  invisible.

  I hug the cushion

  and smell it,

  hoping to get a hint

  of her perfume,

  but it’s gone.

  All I can smell

  is the

  dust

  left behind.

  I go to my room,

  take a pill,

  and turn up the music

  loud

  so I can forget what

  I remember.

  NORMAL DAYS

  Alissa and I

  go to the

  arcade.

  We meet some

  of her friends there

  and play pool in teams.

  They treat me like

  they can’t see the darkness

  in the back of my mind

  and I have

  fun.

  SPIRIT SCENTS

  The wind blows

  Mom’s rose petals,

  scattering them

  across her garden—

  unwanted children

  tossed aside.

  I gather the petals,

  put them into a bowl,

  and place it beside

  Mom’s bed.

  They’re dead,

  but their scent fills the room

  like a memory.

  MY ARM

  The force

  of the chandelier

  crashing down

  broke my arm.

  Even though

  the glass has all been

  swept away

  and my arm is healed,

  it still hurts

  when it

  rains.

  HARD CORE

  “This sucks.

  I’m tired of being

  some kind of wannabe.”

  Jack throws his beer bottle

  under the graffiti

  on the brick wall.

  “I’m tired of it.

  I’m going

  hard core.”

  SLEEPLESS

  My father

  cries out to Mom

  in his sleep.

  I slide from the warmth

  of my bed

  to sleep on the bumpy couch

  in the living room,

  where I’ll no longer

  hear his calls.

  ALISSA MEETS MOM

  Alissa asks,

  “Can I go with you

  to meet your Mom?”

  “I don’t think she knows

  we’re there,” I say.

  “That’s okay,” she says.

  “Whatever.”

  In Mom’s hospital room,

  Alissa sits beside her.

  She takes Mom’s hand gently,

  like a veterinarian holds the

  broken wing of a bird.

  “Hello, I’m Alissa.

  Pleased to finally meet you.”

  Her voice

  overpowers the

  squawks of the machines

  until I can hear

  nothing else.

  STOLEN SOULS

  What’s left of the

  old chandelier

  is heaped next to the window.

  And once in a while

  the sun shines in

  and rainbows dance

  against the walls.

  It’s as if the crystals

  stole Mom’s spirit.

  I hang the crystals

  by the window

  in Mom’s room.

  I hope they

  give her

  spirit

  back.

  THAT KID

  I see the kid.

  He’s outside a white house

  with a nice yard

  and a dog.

  He throws a football

  with his father.

  His mother comes outside smiling.

  Carrying lunch.

  Watching them,

  I get the same feeling

  I had when I was small

  and Mom would chase me

  in the backyard,

  then pick me up,

  wrapping me tight

  in sheets straight off the line.

  I wish I had

  that kid’s shoes.

  WRINKLES

  Dad looks

  older than he is.

  Wrinkles line

  his tired eyes

  and his hair

  is turning

  gray.

  He doesn’t smile

  like he used to.

  He won’t look at me.

  IDENTITY

  In the smoke-filled room at Vic’s,

  Crypt members

  and wannabes

  gather,

  drinking beer

  and toking up.

  Everyone is just one

  big blob of blue

  with no single

  identity.

  I can no longer

 
tell who is who.

  SEVENTEEN

  Jack turns

  seventeen today.

  He steals beer from his dad

  and we go in the alley

  behind the mall

  to celebrate.

  He drinks so much,

  he stumbles.

  People walk by,

  laughing.