'Twas the Night Before Christmas
Mary Miller
My siblings and I never liked each other as much as we did on those early mornings; we never made a better team.
My grandfather, his English name was Benson. As the houseboys opened the gates, he came out on the balcony and fired off a shotgun, boom, one or two blasts.
I remember seeing Aladdin on Christmas Eve with my friend Kylie when I was seven years old.
I made my mom promise me that she was going to live until she was 100 years old, and I would be 82 and we would die together, peacefully, holding hands.
My siblings and I never liked each other as much as we did on those early mornings; we never made a better team.
It doesn’t make the sound that you think it would make. I mean, I figured it would be loud, or top-heavy. But it sounded like almost nothing, like water dripping from a shower faucet three rooms
You’re from the cornfields, I tease, but not really. Your parents, professors at U of Illinois, both versed in the theories of music, both of them concert pianists. They play hushed, reverent duets
Carefully open the wrapping paper. Inside is Teddy Ruxbin. See his stupid face on the box. Fuck you, Teddy Ruxbin. He reads you bedtime stories if you put a cassette tape in his abdomen.
I grew up in grass but here / everything is bladeless, // hair thinned past feathers, / sheets slick enough to grease a boar.
So a few weeks before that Christmas, I decided to do some detective work. I was interested in science and generally curious ...
So on this X-mas eve. There I was. Sitting in the basement. On an old blue sectional couch. Alone
Most nights we stayed behind, Tweety Bird / pajama shirts stretched over our knees, waist-length hair soaking / our backs as we sat on the floor and thumbed glossy 10mm prints.
They sat on the grassy bank, clothes clinging to their wet bodies, watching the river flow. A few raindrops splashed on the surface, tiny dimples rushed away downstream. Neither of them bothered to point out that it was going to rain.
It doesn't take much for a curve to become a coil, for a bridge to become a cage.
I was at a party for the end of the world. I came so I wouldn’t be alone. I guess so did all the other women. They must have known there’d be no men at this party because they wore beautiful
	my parents taught me to say ‘surrender’
	in a dozen foreign languages.
We were listening to the bombing over the radio while my mother drove me to confirmation class that night. The radio said We as if America was a bunch of siblings who once shared a bed together.
I could take my hands off. Just unlock them at the wrists, snap them off like the heads of artificial flowers. As long as my mouth’s working him, up down up down, he wouldn’t notice if I had no
That winter my mother takes me to her country, a little place on the equator I had not yet seen.
The man keeps thinking about the power lines—the ones that are strung over his house.
Sometimes at night, he can hear them up there, buzzing.
It's hard to sleep with all the
I don't like most people. And have been jealous of Bud for ages. With reason.
Subtraction, division,
rabbit bones, rabbit lives
They never seemed to notice me, not even when I rolled up my uniform skirt, like the other girls did, and walked the stairs in front of them.
sometimes i wake up in empty fields, waiting for the aliens to take me. they haven’t yet, but any day now, i’m sure.