Nova
I remember a white candle, as tall as a marble column, melting in the evening and slowly sliding down her hand and her wrist the way ice cream did when she wasn’t paying attention. And from the wax beads of pearly sweat, hot from the glorious flame, kisses of pain made her eyes shutter, but she would try to hide that from me. She would just hold my hand firm in hers and lead me through the dark, and I would worry. Maybe she could feel my hesitation in the way I walked behind her, dragging my feet along and looking back at our little house, so she told me not to be such a wimp, promising that we would be back by curfew. I asked her why she brought a candle because I thought it made more sense to bring a flashlight, but she ignored me and pulled harder on my arm.
“What if Mom finds out?”
Pretend
Under the tree there was an old bench that was made of wood, but the boards were cut unevenly and the whole thing rested on legs that were small tree stumps. On the bench the boy sat up right with his feet stretched out in front of him while crossed at the ankles. Not too far down the dirt road – and it was a dirt road – was a small colonial cottage, not pretty, but plain and dark and shabbily made. Earlier, he found a long blade of grass that was yellowing a bit and kept it at the corner of his mouth because his favorite book was Huckleberry Finn and he liked to look the way he thought Huck did in the story.
His little brother was walking back from the cottage with something in his hands.
“Look what I bought!” the younger boy said, and lowered his cupped palms.
“How much did you spend?”
“Not much.”
“How much?”
A Broken Piece In Time
The night, as dark as the times, covers my tracks.
A bullet nearly misses my head, I take cover behind a tree.
Bright lights shine in my direction,
Panning from one side to another.
I close my eyes, trying to calm my heart, my breath.
The Navajo Ranch
Indians grab their rifles, their bows and arrows. Tomahawks in hand, they are off to war.
Painting their faces with the blood of their enemies, chanting and summoning spirits
of protection.
The children hug their brothers and fathers, clinging to them for dear life.
