Scotty practically leapt over the lump under the sheets that was his father. He came down on the other side; he came between his parents and he landed as inconspicuously as any seven-year-old boy could. He waited for the mattress to go still from the aftershocks. He rolled away from his father toward his mother when he found that side of the bed to be empty, the pillow fresh. He felt for her; he peered over the side to see if she’d rolled on the the floor. He checked under the bed. He slid open the closet door.
He finally said, poking the Judge gently in the back.
“Hmmmm,” said the Judge, more asleep than not.
“Where’s mom?” Scotty whispered.
In a voice too loud, the Judge replied,
“She doesn’t want to live here anymore.“
Scotty did not breathe. He felt no noticeable pain. He rolled off the bed and walked quietly back to his room. He climbed in his bed, determined to not seem surprised.
He didn’t move for a long time.
As he lay there, it was as if a vacuum hose had been inserted down his throat,
for he could not speak, and everything vital, everything pure,
got sucked out, everything sucked out until finally only his heart remained;
its veins and ventricles and arteries clung to his rib.
He imagined the high-pitched sound a vacuum makes
when a piece of plastic or a baby sock clogs the passageway.
Then something shifted, the whine of the vacuum kicked to a higher pitch, the heart began to stretch, to be pulled, and finally it was ripped out and went screaming down the tube,
If a wall clock breaks What tolls you to go If suns were shrouded and nights grayed How could you tell you awoke
Is there such a thing as timely and unprovoked Misshapen are dances when beats are uncontrolled Finicky. The questions when you gave attention Overwhelmed and overboard for the most fitting cogs in motion
Puppets spring of strings peeled Mannequins mechanize if joints strive–contrive
What really happens when you don’t spectate but speculate
I wouldn’t fall for her if time didn’t ticked But still, you wouldn’t break even if it did