my sister smooths a jumper over her polo
shirt. it is green and plaid and freshly pressed
and her little fingers shiver from cold. she can’t
get the zipper up, thinks of asking my mother
for help, decides against it. she leaves the zipper
down, her bedroom flutters with a pink glow.
someone downstairs is filling a bottle with water,
the sloshes echoing all through the house. my father
sleeps. my dog lies on the couch facing the window,
watching stray cars drive past. she’s not supposed
to be on the furniture, and she knows this, but she
does it anyway because who else will watch
the windows? the doors? the people here trail in
and out, looking at the floor or cursing the sky.
my mother is awake, my grandmother gently
snoring beside her. my mother is awake but she
doesn’t want to be. she tries to lie down for
another minute. absorb the day. swallow the bitter
rage bubbling under every slice of her skin.
she decides she’s wasting precious time, storms
out of the room with that fury still swimming in
her mouth. my father sleeps, alone in that brooding
room, that california king-sized mattress. someone
downstairs is tentatively opening the back door.
they smoke a penultimate cigarette, listen to
the birds screeching hymns at the sun. I have
been awake for hours. my eyes become people
and those people are screaming. I bathe in
early morning silence, no sound but the city
stretching its jaws in a yawn. and when the house
wakes up, it anxiously tucks me into bed. but I am
sitting by the railings like I did as a child, ingesting
all the howls that escaped from the living room.
I am in the kitchen cutting my sister’s sandwiches
the way she likes them. I am on the staircase
making music with the steps that creak. I am in
the walls and in the air ducts and in the sewers.
I am under the carpet and at the bottom of
the swimming pool. there is whispering, car doors
opening and slamming shut, and every sound
chimes against my flesh. my sister is crying
on her way to school. my father sleeps.
Wanda Deglane is a night-blooming desert flower from Arizona. She is the daughter of Peruvian immigrants and attends Arizona State University. Her poetry has been published or forthcoming from Rust + Moth, Glass Poetry, L’Ephemere Review, and Yes Poetry, among other lovely places.
