Afraid: Novena, Day Four






Afraid
Novena: Day Four

Did I believe I had a clear mind?
It was like the water of a river
flowing shallow over the ice.  And now
that the rising water has broken
the ice, I see what I thought
was the light is part of the dark.
                                                                Wendell Berry   
                                                                Breaking


It’s natural right?  It’s absolutely natural
for kids to be afraid
of the dark.  Right?  To be tucked
under the warm scratch
of the Army wool and go into (shallow
or deep depending
on who’s been
drinking) a dream or at least

asleep away from being afraid
in the light because that isn’t
natural or even allowed, (being afraid
in the light) and only
tolerated in the way
shitting in a public restroom is
tolerated, all ridicule and pee-
ewe.  It’s the fragrance of shame

and doesn’t it dog me all the way
into the day.  But what in day
fades and makes some faces
wane with their own pane
to slide a smile yours or my way
is larger in the dark and I’ll tell you

I wanted, one: to not
be afraid of it or, better, 
two: to have a knight beside me while
we stole out of bed the both of us
                to go to the bathroom.

And we were small enough to stand
side by side on the stairs
and smart enough to whisper or not
talk at all and even when we got there
we knew we couldn’t
make the flush gurgle

so we never pushed the handle
and nobody ever said anything seeing
what we’d left there
after we’d kept it, pinched it in
until we made it to relief.

Still we wondered who’d ever catch us
who would flush the rest of it
while we crept and laid bets about who
would pee the bed
and every time
you cried and I just couldn’t save you
in the daytime because didn’t we know
the both of us,

that the light never saves you
from the dark.  Instead it strips you
to your rash and the red ulcers
on your bottom erupting
after the slaps
and the sound of your sheets
in the wind
on the line make you shake
sometimes when we go out to play.







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