but suddenly it doesn’t feel like it’s to me.
It reminds me of when I practice reciting
all my good disses
in the mirror in case I ever get into a fight
where I might need to use them.
NEW WORDS/GLAMOUR/
AN ATTRACTIVE OR EXCITING QUALITY THAT MAKES CERTAIN PEOPLE OR THINGS SEEM APPEALING
This never happens but
today Mami wore pants
& marched mad
pissed off to the welfare office
to tell her caseworker
that she wasn’t shit
for decreasing
her food stamps.
Never mess with a woman
dressed in the glamour of
her children’s hunger.
FIRST JOBS
Lala got her first job working summer youth.
We celebrate her being one step closer to
making it outta here.
When you gonna get a job? Lala asks.
I been looking.
I lie.
The truth is my job is to help Mami keep track
of her appointments.
I never really asked Mami why she can’t write
her own appointments down on the calendar
but it doesn’t matter
’cause I like my job.
It has perks, like I get to ask questions
without being yelled at and I get to request new Bic pens
and keep some for myself
and because Mami has to make sure
that I get everything right
she has to speak so slowly
and so softly that I almost feel as important
as the case managers at the welfare office.
I wonder if they love their job as much as I do.
I wonder if they appreciate Mami’s patience
with their questions.
I wonder if they miss her when she’s gone.
QUESTION FOR THE BIC PEN I USE TO WRITE DOWN MAMI’S APPOINTMENTS ON THE CALENDAR
What are the stories you would rather tell?
TODAY IN BIBLE STUDY
Today’s lesson is on the Tower of Babel.
It’s the story of why we have so many languages
in the world. What had happened was the people
tried to get all slick and build a tower tall enough
to reach heaven and get to God.
I don’t know why they were tryna get to God.
The Bible has a habit of leaving out a lot of detail
important to the story. Maybe he wasn’t listening
or some shit and they felt like they had to go
regulate. Like when Mami calls the welfare office
about them messing up the amount she’s supposed to get
and they don’t answer the phone so she has to go in person so they know she means business.
Anyway. Rumor has it they built a tower
so tall that they could almost taste the clouds.
Estrella & I crack up at the thought
of God being so childish and laughing
at how they thought they were smarter
than him and then waiting for the right moment
just as the people were starting to feel confident
in their unity, and with one flick of his wrist
or however it is that God makes things happen,
he made it so that they didn’t understand each other;
and just like that we got the gift
of miscommunication all because God
was mad that for a moment
we were almost on the same level as him.
NEEDLES
Tone uses heroin. Sometimes we find needles in the bathroom or kitchen. They lie on the floor lonely, having served their purpose. Tone gets mad at Mami when she sweeps them up. Those were clean needles I got from my friend! he yells. Mami says she can get him real clean needles from her diabetes doctor. Mami sends me to la farmacia. I don’t wanna go. You’re gonna help him get high? I complain. Estrella tells me I don’t get it. If Tone doesn’t get new needles he can get sick. If Tone gets sick he can die. If Tone dies we are homeless again. I shut up and run to fill the script.
NEW WORDS/SCOFF/
Mami is seeing things again.
The oil drips from the walls;
she swipes the grease
onto her hands and tells me:
Mira, estoy ungida.
Look, I am anointed.
She rocks back & forth during prayer.
Mami says she is not crazy.
Just recovering from the neighbors’ witchcraft.
She suspects someone has a voodoo doll
modeled after her to keep her sick.
The doctor Mami went to see called it schizophrenia.
Mami scoffs at this diagnosis.
Mami calls it los nervios.
An epidemic only Puerto Rican women suffer from.
Something only women with pins
in their body would understand.
NEW WORDS/EVALUATION/
A SYSTEMATIC DETERMINATION OF A SUBJECT’S MERIT, WORTH AND SIGNIFICANCE
Mami finally got approved for Social Security Income.
It’s a check you get for being sick
and not being able to work.
Mami doesn’t really talk about her illness much.
Papi says from what he can see
nothing is wrong with her
& calls her lazy for not trying harder to find a job.
SSI is different from welfare but it’s money
we have to wait for regardless.
Mami thinks since Estrella has been acting strange
she can qualify for SSI too.
She makes an appointment to get her evaluated.
Estrella overheard Mami telling Raffy
that with an extra $500 a month
we can afford to buy more food.
Estrella thinks it’s foul for Mami
to be fake worried about her for a check.
She says if Mami makes her go to the psychiatrist
she’s gonna act crazy on purpose.
Maybe she can make extra money
from being an actress on Broadway.
I think Estrella would look fly on a stage.
She laughs and twirls, in love with her mad idea.
Come on, she says.
Let’s practice what crazy looks like for Broadway!
Estrella imitates Mami when she’s in a rage.
I decide to be Mami at her quietest.
MEDICAID
At the therapist’s office, Estrella and I watch cartoons and giggle our thirst away. It’s the end of the month and laughter sits in the back of our throats like cool water. The receptionist asks for our insurance and it’s my turn to bring Mami her purse. A woman standing next to Mami fans through her credit cards and decides on one to pay for her visit. She mutters something to the receptionist about perfectly healthy people on welfare living off of her taxes. I give Mami our Medicaid card. White like good milk. Estrella says she should punch the lady in the mouth. I laugh and tell her to save her anger for the therapist.
LIVING THE DREAM
I had a dream where I write myself a new life
in a new town that believes in me
& I buy Mami a house she doesn’t deserve.
In Bushwick, the only dream is finding the nail salon
with the cheapest acrylic tips & the only future
is the rare occasion Mami smiles like she found hope
or s
ome money to take the bus downtown
so the therapist can sign a paper that says
that Estrella and I can’t focus so we need
extra time on tests,
when really we’re just alive and tired
of questions that don’t ever answer our hunger,
distracted by the strange way
we’re being given attention,
like we matter and don’t at the same time
in an office whose doors lock and has air
that smells like it’s never had roaches
so how could the therapist possibly see us
at our calmest when we got feet
that have never known to trust that the floor
won’t spill the fury of a thousand rats.
MY LIFE AS A SALSA SONG
LA CURA
After the visit we get a free MetroCard if we sign out with our Medicaid #. Knowing how we are getting back home is the only good thing about seeing the therapist. It’s the least they can do after not believing us when we said everything hurt but we couldn’t really explain where or how because what we mean is we have all this pain and nowhere left to put it so sometimes it travels our bodies and other times we have to let it loose if someone stares at us long enough to see how scared we really are even of our own brilliance. Estrella and I want to be heard more than we want the medicine but it’s a quick visit ’cause the waiting room is full of people who need to be seen before the MetroCards run out.
AFTER SCHOOL THE PIANO PLAYER FROM CHURCH IS WAITING FOR ME
I get in the car because I know him.
I get in the car because he is the pastor’s best friend.
I get in the car because he promised to take me home.
I get in the car because this could be God
sending me a blessing.
I get in the car because I need to save my feet
for the walk to church later.
because someone cared enough
to pick me up from school.
because it makes me feel like the white girls
I see in the movies.
because I want my friends to see me matter.
He starts driving me home & the car door is locked.
The streets abandon their homes
& the car door is locked.
We stop on the block where people make sure
their car doors are locked.
I know something is wrong
’cause I am not home and the car door is locked.
He wants me to smile.
I have such a pretty smile.
I regret learning it in the mirror.
I want to scream
but God probably won’t hear me
if the car door is locked.
SARAI SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER
The pastor asks how old I am and guesses 17, 18. Mami says 13 like she’s ashamed she gave me her hips. I remind her I turned 14 last year. The pastor says what he would have said regardless of what age I was. I should know better than to get into a car alone with a man. The pastor is pissed off but I can’t tell if it’s at the piano player or at the fact that our church might not have a piano player soon. Mami asks if we should involve the cops.
The pastor says God is the highest authority
and we pray.
THE PIANO MAN HAS A FAMILY
They place me in front of the door so I can be the first thing he sees when he opens it. I guess this makes it easier for them to introduce the subject. Kind of like knowing what the TV show is going to be about before you watch it. This time I am in a novela I didn’t sign up to be the star for.
A pregnant woman opens the door, she looks exhausted. She shushes two toddlers behind her who are screaming and racing each other across the apartment. I smile at her like this is an audition and I want her to invite me to the next round.
She looks confused and annoyed. She ushers Mami, the pastor and me in without asking any questions.
I feel like I won already. There are only four seats at the table she points to. Mami, the pastor, the Piano Man’s wife & me. This is nice. I wish we had a table. Good families always have tables.
I run my fingers across the dark wood. I wonder where the Piano Man will sit.
MY LIFE AS A BIBLE STORY: LOT’S WIFE
The Piano Man’s wife
is looking straight through him.
She doesn’t move,
like a beautifully carved pregnant statue.
I think all women have that talent.
To make pain look like art.
In Bible study we learned
how Lot’s wife turned to a pillar of salt
because she looked back
at a town God was destroying because of sin.
I think it’s real hard to leave something you once loved
and not look back one more time.
That’s exactly how Piano Man’s wife is looking at him
like he is a burning city God is warning her to leave.
WHAT ESTRELLA KNOWS ABOUT JUSTICE
Nobody’s gonna save us but us.
Nobody is gonna protect us but us.
I just want to forget it ever happened.
But Estrella says we can forget after
Corner Boy Jesus reminds Piano Man
that he fucked with the wrong one.
JESUS OUR LORD & SAVIOR
Ayo, Star! Jesus always calls Estrella’s name in English
when he wants her to come downstairs.
Estrella runs out of the building & into his arms.
Like she runs downstairs when Papi honks the horn.
I can’t hear much from our third-floor window
but I peep Jesus’ white tank top
looking all tie-dyed red.
Estrella reaches for Jesus’ bleeding knuckles
as he punches the air like you do
when you tell a good fight story.
Like you do
when you won the fight.
I run down the stairs
to thank Jesus for sacrificing himself for me
but by the time I get there
he’s already gone.
WHAT LALA KNOWS ABOUT JUSTICE
Lala stopped by the stoop today.
It’s been a while since we’ve spoken.
Summer youth has her wild busy.
Lala says I don’t gotta talk about it if I don’t want to.
Sometimes we don’t and sometimes we do.
When we do, we crack jokes about Piano Man and his wack-ass music.
Bet he won’t be able to play for a while
after what Jesus did to him.
Is it wrong that I’m happy he’s hurt? I lay down in Lala’s lap.
I want to give my body a safe home.
Lala strokes my hair & laughs an irresponsible laugh.
I guess we’ll find out on Judgment Day.
WHAT THE MEN KNOW ABOUT JUSTICE
When Mami tells Papi about Piano Man
Papi is furious at me for getting into
a car with a man. He doesn’t
understand how I could be such a pendeja.
At the bodega Papi warns me
that men are no good.
Papi says even though he doesn’t own a gun
he has hands as good as bullets.
The bodeguero says he doesn’t know
what he would do if he ever had a daughter.
Papi & the bodeguero go on and on
about how badly men treat women;
not them though.
But they’ve heard stories
you know?
MY LIFE AS A SALSA SONG
USTED ABUSÓ
I feel like I ha
ve a new body.
One that I put on to pass for human.
Inside
I am a monster.
Inside
I am angry
that I let someone steal me
from me.
Angry that I sang songs with him.
That I fixed my pitch to match the keys.
Angry that I loved the way
The piano carried my voice.
Angry that I let him guide my hands
over the drums.
Angry that I trusted a man
to take me home.
When home was just a few blocks away.
When home was my body, an already fully furnished room.
I should have changed the locks like Mami,
crossed my legs tighter.
But I let him in. I let him in
’cause I was scared.
I let him in ’cause they say if a thief
tries to take something from you
let him have it
unless you want to die.
What a fucked up option to have
when both choices take your breath away.
My real body has been looted.
My real body has been thrown away.
My real body wants to crawl out of
where a man’s guilt has buried it
& find its way back to me.
I know it. My real body visits me
in my dreams & this time we walk home
together. This time we trust only our
feet & the next step
and the next step
& the next.
THE LAST TIME I CALL THE CHATLINE
Today I tell the truth about who I am on the chatline.
The coiled cord stretches straight as I walk to the mirror.
I had forgotten what I looked like.