The German word for dream is traume.
The coal-dust hushed
parameters of the room.
Outside, my mother stitched
whole dresses for $3.00 a piece.
I slept in a bedroom
which faced the street.
A cheerleader was killed
in a drive-by that year.
She died in her sleep.
I watched the headlights
sweep overhead.
*
It felt like skin.
It did not
feel obscene.
When that boy
tongue-kissed me
and wiped
his mouth,
it was a coming
into knowledge.
*
When my mother whispered,
Has anyone touched you there?
I had to pick.
Alan, I said.
I was seven.
The training wheels
were coming off.
Between the couch
and wall, the ceiling was white
with popcorn bits. The boys stood
and watched. I lay there,
my eyes open like a doll’s.
Someone said, Let me try.
He pulled down his pants
and rode on top,
then abruptly stopped.
The boys laughed,
said Shhh
and stood me up.
Copyright Credit: Cathy Linh Che, "The German word for dream is traume" from Split. Copyright © 2014 by Cathy Linh Che. Reprinted by permission of Alice James Books, www.alicejamesbooks.org.
Source: Split (Alice James Books, 2014)