There lives a skinny cousin in Las Vegas
who may have attempted erasure in
the last few days. They say.
Somebody on the network
said NV had taken pills,
someone else said
NV had gone missing.
There were few details.
They think it may have been
about a boy
which would explain,
perhaps, why motive
resides beyond the pale moon,
outside of stained pillow cases
and a training bra.
They say her father is strict
to the point of being both
harsh and Imelda
and that NV would be
justified in some
kind of mocked up
grab for attention.
NV says ‘Why you
breakin’ my balls’
when she feels
stretched.
They say the father
is leaving for Guam
though, to work,
and that that
will be her renewal.
NV likes to draw
and could blossom into
art. With pencils
NV is working
two jobs for the family
and NV is confused
between shifts.
NV says next to nothing
at school for that would be
her undoing. I wrote her
something for her 18th
to establish our solidarity
among the trace
and between
the sketch.
NV is still 19….
….now and tomorrow
and for as long as NV can
bear being just herself.
NV needs to disappear
into dots and hues
and away from those campus
corridors and Pancit troughs,
away from the top-heavy
bellies of the morbidly
bellicose and the whisperers
who can only speculate
via networks. NV deserves
more than the oaken
figures NV daily finds
herself surrounded by
who relate in fits
of pantomime.