by Dora Gelerinter
Welcomed into a cocoon:
icy and feverish
surrounded by affection like fuzzy dragonflies
and Daddy’s wide eyes
and the yawns of cartoon monkeys.
Having crossed the bridge
already
already forever yearning
to step onto the summit de nuevo1
with fear the only fear
that mod-podges the edges of my lips together,
trying to keep out the draft.
Sitting silent, stoic, boring
wondering why cruelty is laughed off
thrown aside
thrown away.
That’s not funny.
“Yeah. I got a hundred.”
Hey, no one cares, but see
it’s gotten you this far, so be gracious
be temperate
be predictable
be the mediator
sit on the risers and let me lay my head
in your red and white gingham lap
add a dollop of blue and whisk together.
You deserve everything, sweetheart.
But who are you
to ask for more?
Sick of trying to explain the inexplicable.
I’ll tell you exactly what you’re feeling, quiet girl.
Your blueprint was scrawled on faded scrolls
and tattered Torahs
and burning flapping flags
Don’t let the building fall.
It’s been built on so much.
My gray flip phone vibrates
a congratulations
to my mountain-climbing husband John
The sender thinks I’m Meredith, but I was named
out of irony and ignorance
sweet, innocent ignorance that sparkles on the tongue
and tastes like cola candy.
The title of a young lady who pirouettes in her pastel pink bedroom and crochets
tiny little chains of rainbow stitches
surprisingly diverging
from the yellow-brick road.
There’s pride in profanity
when clarity and sanity
hang serenely in my wardrobe,
masquerading me a partial truth.
An outfit for my Mommy,
a get-up for my friend,
a big burgundy coat for my classmates
with dark faux fur embellishments
all zipped up to the tip of my nose.
Sit next to me on the number 2 train.
Tell me “Wow, I never knew that.”
Wink at me.
I want to understand that spark, fiery within
and concealing something human, totally human
removing ourselves from the monotony
of the same saccharine dialogues
destructive and well-wishing
tu libreto de siempre tan predecible.2
The fatigue has lulled
into a lazy soup floating up to the fluorescents
and I’m gliding along the plaster ceilings
and we’re all laughing and tearing up in a horseshoe
like some support group.
Students Anonymous,
Addicted to the rhythm of education
jolted from wet dreams by the factory bell.
Staring out a chilled and frosty window, glazed with thoughts
going somewhere
college or travel or language-learning or writing
flying airplanes and leaving behind
the Mickey Mouse stickers
the digital cameras that once consumed my parents’ fingertips
replaced by excuses like bandages
attempts to explain why I run alone
with the universe’s eyes omnipresent.
Change is stuffed into plastic bins from the dollar store
I trace the outline of a new creature in the mirror everyday.
Of course you never would’ve thought
I could be loud
I could be independent
I could smile so wide into the spotlight
that the sides of my mouth quivered,
leaping into leadership,
having reached an emotional threshold.
feel free to exploit my sensitivity
You never thought I would be the type?!
I’m not a damn type. I’m a person.
Go fuck yourself, you beautiful boy.
I’ll watch.
Melting into puddles of kindness
with chocolate sprinkles,
Trickling over iron drainage
Seeping into the soil like groundwater
and mixing with the iridescent rain
shiny with gasoline:
the worst way to leave.
Fearing the vacuum the most, the emptiness.
Never knowing where the bar was set.
Never knowing it could have been reached.
Never knowing it could have been cleared.
Unable to locate the keys to the cage
nested inside another like a Russian doll,
smiling with giggles,
tired of power.
Still I stand on the stage triumphant
because every few minutes
the routine ends once more
and I’ve added meaning to the movement.
1de nuevo: Spanish, “again”
2tu libreto de siempre tan predecible: Spanish, “your script that is always so predictable”
