Yellow Mini Read online

  to the piano that sits in a circle

  of light, the lid open

  like an archway

  above

  her.

  She sits still for a few

  minutes, as if she is

  frozen, then her

  hands rise

  over the

  keys.

  At first, the music is soft,

  staying on the stage,

  then slowly it rolls

  out, over the

  crowd, like

  fog.

  Suddenly, we are surrounded

  by Mary’s music, the notes

  flowing between us

  around us and

  inside us.

  When she stops, we all want to clap

  but hesitate, as if it would be too

  rude to cut into the music that

  keeps resonating long

  after Mary has

  left the

  stage.

  I float my way back to our booth,

  its top filled with flyers

  about ugly things,

  And for a long time I don’t

  want to look

  down.

  Lights

  Christopher

  When I’m at the board

  I feel

  Like I’m master of a

  universe,

  Each slider and switch

  a star

  That I oversee, like

  Galileo.

  I promised Annabelle

  I’d give

  Mary the greatest light

  of all,

  And I think I fulfilled

  that promise.

  But will Annabelle give me

  any credit?

  Empty

  Mark's Mom

  Staring at your empty bed,

  I think of the day

  your cat died.

  You fell asleep hugging

  the hot water bottle

  to your chest.

  In the morning, I emptied it,

  the water pumping out

  like a beating heart.

  Now, wondering where

  you are, my heart

  gushes the same way

  Emptying, leaving me

  full of nothing

  but fear.

  What are you doing

  out there, alone

  in your crazy car?

  All night—no return

  no phone call

  no sign of life.

  If your father could see

  what you are doing to me,

  he would kill you,

  But that’s exactly

  what you may be doing

  to yourself.

  Ideals

  Annabelle

  My mom stops at our booth

  during Intermission.

  I watch the way her eyes glance

  over the pamphlets

  Like she doesn’t really want

  to take them in

  But then one catches her eye:

  Carpet Weaving.

  And I wonder if it’s because she’s always

  going on about carpets,

  How they can make or break a sale

  in someone’s home.

  I watch her open it and read about

  Iqbal Masih,

  A carpet weaver in Pakistan who started

  working at age four

  Ran away at ten, then was shot and killed

  at twelve.

  She stands and reads it for a long time,

  her face growing red

  As she learns how he risked his life

  by talking

  About the evils of bonded labour

  all over the world.

  When she’s finished, she tucks it into

  her purse,

  Turns to Mr. Dawe, shakes his hand

  and thanks him

  For all the wonderful work

  he is doing.

  I just about fall of my chair because

  I remember

  Her saying that ideals don’t pay

  the rent.

  Now, I wonder if, when she’s walking

  strangers

  Through beautiful homes, her high heels

  echoing

  off the ceilings like trapped birds,

  her mind

  Does wander to other things; if, when she’s

  smiling and quoting

  Prices on new roofs and marble counter tops

  her mind

  Does wonder about things she can’t afford

  to dwell on

  Because she has to make that sale:

  it’s how we eat.

  First Time

  Mary's Mom

  Watching the show, I finally got it:

  your ability to shut every-

  thing out.

  Tonight, I stopped fighting

  your piano and just

  listened.

  For once, I was inside your music,

  instead of outside,

  wanting in.

  Tonight I could see that your playing

  has nothing to do

  with me

  That playing the piano is not something

  you are doing

  to me.

  It is entirely yours, completely separate

  from anything I can

  control.

  Super Charged

  Annabelle

  I sneak back inside during

  a dance number.

  Christopher’s lights are bouncing

  off the dancer’s feet—

  Yellow and blue, with streaks

  of silver on the back wall.

  I think of the show Christopher

  described at the Planetarium.

  He wants to spend both evenings there

  under the galaxy

  Watching the universe

  dance across the dome

  Instead of sitting in diners

  with me and the others, like I pictured,

  The two of us leaning close,

  planning to change the world.

  His face in the booth is super-charged,

  smiling wide above the board

  Like I’ve never seen him smile

  near the stores

  And I wonder if I was wrong

  to expect him to want

  The same things

  as me.

  BIG WHITE SMILE

  Mark

  The Mini’s high beams are not very strong,

  but they’re all I’ve got to steer me off

  this road and onto the highway.

  Branches grab the car like claws

  that want to catch me and take me

  hostage deep inside the woods.

  Owls hoot and wolves howl

  like the whole forest is pissed

  off that I am here, intruding.

  .

  I knew it was time to go when the clouds cleared,

  uncovering a crescent moon that hung

  like a big white smile in the sky.

  My dad’s key was shiny in the ground

  at my feet and I could almost feel his hand

  squeezing my shoulder, saying thanks.

  Control

  Christopher

  I thought I might have blown my chance of being

  in New York

  in love with

  Annabelle

  My dad gave me the tal
k on

  respecting

  her body

  and my own,

  Like I don’t have any self-control

  and will pounce

  the minute

  we’re alone.

  Still, when I pictured the two of us

  late at night

  temptation

  closing in,

  It was hard not to think about

  undressing

  caressing

  messing with

  Annabelle. I thought I lost her by

  revealing

  my real

  intentions,

  But when she looked up at the booth

  it struck me

  hard – like a

  ray of hope.

  Eclipse

  Stacey

  It worked like

  I knew it would:

  Mary all in

  white

  like the full moon

  that was the only thing

  keeping me company

  last week in the woods.

  No one knew

  I did it.

  It’s not like

  I could hang

  a sign

  around her neck

  for everyone to see:

  designed by Stacey.

  Especially

  for my parents

  who were sitting

  out there watching,

  looking sad

  because they weren’t sure

  I was backstage

  working.

  It’s not like

  I could announce

  where I was going,

  suddenly

  keeping them

  informed

  and in the loop

  of my life.

  They always look

  so lost,

  like my sister’s leaving

  turned their smiles

  upside down

  and nothing I have done

  has helped to flip them

  right side up again.

  I wonder if

  they’ll look that way

  forever now, never

  laughing, never

  light-hearted,

  always heavy

  always hurting

  always wondering

  Why their daughters

  were so hard

  to raise and

  didn’t seem

  to give a shit

  about anyone

  else’s feelings

  but their own.

  Sometimes

  I think if

  they would just smile more,

  forget my sister and focus

  on here and now,

  show some sign

  of wanting

  to be happy

  I’d come round

  and spend time

  with them, instead

  of always running

  as far away as I can

  to escape their sadness,

  their shrugged shoulders

  and their brick-like guilt.

  When the crew

  takes a bow

  I look right into

  their eyes,

  our first contact

  in ages,

  to show them

  I am here.

  That’s when I see their

  smiles, slight but there,

  and I know the reason

  they came was

  to try to see me,

  like a rare

  eclipse

  of the sun.

  Trionfale

  Triumphant

  Mary

  Chopin knew he’d done well

  when he could say

  That he had played as he played

  when he was alone.

  Tonight, I think I can say

  just that.

  Fine

  Relief

  Stacey's Mom

  Tonight reminded me

  of school concerts

  when she was little and

  full of bounce

  Up on stage, twirling and

  bursting with song,

  the fastest reindeer, the

  the brightest star

  And I would think, that’s my

  girl, sprung from me

  with such perfection in

  every cell.

  I’d be the first to leap

  to my feet for

  for the standing O, blowing

  her kisses.

  Tonight I didn’t stand,

  but I was caught

  by the beam of her eyes

  piercing mine.

  Relief flooded through me

  just to know she

  was safe and not roaming

  in that car

  No bigger than a bug,

  no protection

  in a crash, no escaping

  her boyfriend.

  I could feel her dad

  caught beside me,

  pulling pictures from his

  memory,

  Opening them slowly,

  holding his breath,

  as though he was scared of

  what he’d see.

  Syncopation

  Unexpected emphasis on weak beats

  Mary

  I can go to the

  cast party now,

  because I am one of

  the gang.

  I don’t need to turn

  my shoulders in

  and shy away from

  people.

  Even if I just sit

  in a corner and watch

  the action and absorb

  the fun

  I’ll still be okay,

  because people look at me

  differently now, not

  the same

  As before when they

  didn’t know me,

  didn’t know my

  music

  And just saw me as

  some weirdo who never

  talked or played

  the game

  That everyone my age

  is supposed to play:

  pretending and posing,

  the art

  Of making yourself

  someone who everyone

  else wants to get to know,

  the way

  Stacey does, like a pro,

  although tonight she seemed

  different, not her usual

  loud self.

  She even asked me

  to wait up for her so we

  could walk together to the

  party,

  Which made me look

  around, like maybe

  I didn’t get

  the joke,

  But there was no one around,

  just the two of us in the hallway,

  eerily quiet and still after

  the show.

  Hope

  Annabelle

  They walk off, practically holding hands,

  Stacey breathing down Mary’s neck,

  Like Mary is suddenly her closest friend

  and not someone she likes to call

  Roly-poly freak girl

  whenever she gets the chance.

  I want to follow them, hide

  behind trees and mailboxes

  Like Nancy Drew, girl detective,

  but I can’t because I have to help

  Mr. Dawe put a
way the stuff

  from our booth.

  I hope the hug I gave Mary

  earlier, after the show, will act as a kind of

  Suit of armour, keeping her safe when Stacey

  turns back into herself.

  I was hoping Christopher would drop by

  but why would he?

  I didn’t exactly make him think

  I wanted him to.

  I hope the look I gave Christopher earlier,

  before the show, won’t act as kind of

  Shield, keeping him away

  from me.

  Empty

  Christopher

  We didn’t make plans

  to meet

  But I go look for Annabelle after the

  clean up

  Once all our gear is locked

  away.

  The info booth is

  empty,

  Nothing remains, not even a

  pamphlet

  Or petitition or

  cupcake

  All the things she worked so

  hard on.

  The bare table in the

  dark hall

  Reminds me how

  I’d feel

  Without her in

  my life.

  Strepitoso

  Noisy, boisterous

  Mary

  Wood-paneled

  basement

  beer boxes

  filling

  with empties

  pool-table

  shaking

  music

  pounding

  laughing

  buzzing

  smoky

  corners

  bodies

  on stairs

  screams

  outside

  more bodies

  squeezing in

  less and less space

  less and less air

  firecrackers

  exploding

  doors

  slamming

  kids

  crying

  floating by

  Stacey vanished

  and suddenly

  I want

  to be

  above ground

  where there’s

  air and space

  and no

  noise or

  people

  Only me

  myself

  and I.

  I tried this scene

  but it’s

  definitely

  not mine.

  EXPERIENCE

  Mr. Dawe

  These kids are

  ready, eager

  for meaning.

  I could see it

  in the way

  they ran the booth

  And sold the treats

  to raise money

  during the show.