I was a child once.
I know this because I glimpse her every now and then.
I can vaguely make out the imprint of her naked, bleeding feet.
Her basket is empty now. He strewed her cherries everywhere.
Why didn’t you come searching for her, Daddy?
Olly Olly oxen free. You can’t find me.
Why do little girls’ skinned kneecaps taste like rotting flesh?
Why did you neglect to see the muddy footprints on the linoleum?
Why was your vision blurred – like a modern-day cyclops?
Why did you always have more answers than questions?
Surely if you had been curious enough to ask her, she would have answered.
As time goes by, she has come to realize, the answer to all the questions is See.
See, she opened closed doors because he told her to.
See, she slow danced with Crazy even at a young age.
See, she knew you were there even though you couldn’t see her pain.
See, she was telling the truth times two minus the one.
See, one plus one is always he.
See, she will vacuum pack her truth and store it in unmarked boxes.
See, you went away and left her to unpack those boxes alone.
See, she’s much older now, but still wildly chasing apologies from corpses –
long gone, long decayed.
Angela Jackson-Brown is an award-winning writer, poet, playwright, and the Director of Creative Writing at Indiana University Bloomington. She also teaches in the Naslund-Mann Graduate School of Writing at Spalding University in Louisville, KY. She is the author of Drinking From a Bitter Cup, House Repairs, When Stars Rain Down, The Light Always Breaks, Homeward, and Untethered. House Repairs won the 2021 Alabama Library Association Poetry Award. When Stars Rain Down was a finalist for the 2021 Langum Prize, longlisted for the Granum Foundation Award, and shortlisted for the 2022 Indiana Authors Award. Homeward was shortlisted in 2024.
Next Page (Sandra Simonds)