drowning out west

It has not been so bad here -- warmer than home and they call the place differently than we do. You know how we always said Mizzery?
They call it Mizzera.

~

Dear Daniel,
Auntie J and Uncle Agner have made the attic comfortable for me. From my window I can see hills fattening in the distance and the river veins away from them -- winds right through the pasture.

Tell mother I wear the cardigan she crocheted and no one can tell yet. Auntie looks hard, cause she knows I should be blowing up, but she's disappointed. She tells me eat right cause she wants her new baby healthy and she heaps enough food for two grown-ups on my plate; I eat as much as I can, but it all comes up anyway.

Give everyone my love.

Embraces,
Ana


~


Dear Ana,
Mother is still too upset to write; I hope you understand. I'm glad you're settled in.

Daniel

~



Agner only owns the pasture,
he hasn't a breath of livestock
His job is on the road,
so I'm alone with Auntie
and the boys most days.

The phone rings
and we hope.
Auntie always answers, which I
like anyway. I hate being the one
so clearly desperate.
I can tell by her tone that it isn't Agner
and hope she hands it to me.
No. She waves me out of the room.

That was your mother, she tells me.
That's all. No secondhand love.



Dear Daniel,

It always begins and usually
it ends that way. The trees
I waste reminding myself
I'm not alone. When paper dwindles,
I uncrumple the heap at my bedside
and read scrawling after scrawling
of dear daniels. I flatten and stack them;
I practice a new way to write my name:
one that exudes confidence.

I lie flat on my bed
beside the sweating notes.
When drafts breathe through
I listen to the friction
of Daniel's name
on mine.

~

Dear Daniel,
My belly is rounder now, but it doesn't matter much. Uncle Agner's property is large and I can roam it freely without anyone ever seeing. A salesman came by yesterday and saw my belly; he blushed all bright, but Auntie lied and said my husband worked with hers and I was just staying with her -- being in a family way one shouldn't be alone and she can always use help with the boys. She's a good liar and didn't even touch her rosary after -- not that I could tell.

Uncle Agner was home for a week. I'm glad he's gone now. He likes to use his belt on the boys a lot. Dad never did much of that. I'm thinking of keeping the baby.

Please say something.

Much love,
Ana


~


I scribble out Please say something
and seal the envelope.
I have so much time to write and this is all I've said.

~

Ana, (I can almost hear this sigh he must've heaved in writing this)
How can you even think it? What's in that water they give you down there?

I'll hear nothing of it.

Write again when you've come to your senses.

Daniel



How can I think it?
He'll hear nothing of it.
He won't say what I want to hear:
no affection, no apologies.
He never meant to hurt me.


~

Dear Ana,
Daniel told me what you said. You just remember that J and Agner have taken you in with the understanding that you'd turn that infant over to them once it's been nursed. You're not bringing that baby into my home!

We'd still appreciate knowing who did this?

You were always such a good girl, Ana. My only daughter, my heart is crying for the way you're broken.

Your Mother

~


I take these letters to the river.
The pasture is overgrown with thistle,
darn picky cows won't touch it so it thrives
and takes over, becomes so big.
So much of what no one seems to want.

The letters I send are supple
with my handling; theirs arrive
stiffly-starched, but I run
my fingers along the penmanship,
touch where their hands have been.
Then I let the river have their words:
it's strong enough to handle them.

~

Dear Daniel,
The baby should come any day now. I'm getting uncomfortable. Auntie has made some lovely buntings and bedding; the bassinet that belonged to her boys is waiting. I dust it off a few times a day, thinking it doesn't look clean enough.

I can't wait to come home again. Please tell me how everyone is doing.

Love,
Ana


~


Dear Ana,
We're all well. I'll be heading off to school in a few weeks; I got accepted by a college in upstate New York. I probably won't be around when you get back.

Daniel


~


I hurt to know if my tulips
ever took to bloom,
but Daniel hasn't time for something
so minute.

Even the river is slow to swallow
this stiff letter.

Agner is home again;
he slapped me this morning.
I don't quite know what I did,
I just cost him so much
and am in the way.

Auntie has towels and washbasins
ready for the moment they're needed.
She tells me her boys came slow,
but one never knows.

I've been cramping all week,
but this morning it felt as if my belly
was going to pinch me right in two.
Then it went away, returning
in far apart waves.

I didn't tell Auntie right way,
just fixed breakfast and hid my pain
until she got busy fussing
over the boys.

My suitcase was small to begin with,
so trying to fill it with all I can think
of leaves it heavy and overstuffed.
Auntie's clean towels barely fit,
but I'll need them.

I write one last note:
by the time you read this we'll be dead

I haul my suitcase, myself,
and my ball-and-chain belly
across the pasture.

This afternoon is cooler than summer should
be. I leave my dress on a rock
and wade into the water;
the cold soothes.

I bear down firmly,
punished.
In a blistering burn,
my insides explode outward,
heating the river.

The strange heat drifts away,
but remains tethered to me.
I had thought it would waft away,
like a bad smell, on the current,
but it won't let go.

I reel the stiff cord in and haul
the strange heat-squirm
to the bank.

I stumble more than I'd think,
still leaking heat.
I sever it from myself and lay it coldly
on the ground. A little girl, I see.
She gasps and screams,
all covered with fatty pinkish-white.

I rub her clean with a soft towel
and hold her for a moment, trying
to summon the courage to carry
her back to the water.

Her scalp gleams with dark hair.
She doesn't look like me, I determine.
She looks like,
like Daniel.

She purses her lips and,
without a thought, I put her
to my breast. If she's to drown,
it will go like this.