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MAIREAD CASE

33

Izzy went to bed, but Tiny is still on the roof. She watches everything outside fringe. Now is an after. Tiny feels water in the corner of her eye, a hinge in her chest. She is exhausted. Tiny crawls back in through the window. Since that window is a door almost every morning too, its paint has started to flake, and the bug screen is torn. Tiny wipes her feet carefully. She takes off her clothes. She lies on top of the sheets in her underwear, like a corpse except her heart is still blooming. A bloom is always itself: a polyvalence, not a parade. It is, and Tiny’s brother is dead, again and again.

In the morning Tiny has to decide what to do. It’s not really a decision. Rather, she will reckon with her body, which is her mother’s and brother’s too. Tonight, Tiny sleeps in waves. She stares at the ceiling and imagines a fire starting in her chest. She cries, and it sounds like a silo. The sky outside is blue-pink and starry gold, day and night at once.