"Gospel on the Radio" by Jacqueline Goldfinger
Gospel on the Radio
That morning,
the Cricket
on my cracked windowpane
has no idea what she’s in for;
just fiddles her sweet song
’til I’m all the way outta bed
and think to swat her away.
Looking back,
I wonder,
did I really hit her?
Or did she jump a second before?
Skittering across the burnt grass,
taking the sweetness of the world with her.
I dress like I don’t know a funeral is comin’.
Bright colors.
Christmas glitter pantyhose.
Yellow headband: thin, plastic, sharp.
Orange Sharpie the faded neckline.
Looks almost, good, as. . .
that sound, not a fiddle tune.
Not a ghost.
Nobody here to spike footfalls but me.
I flip radio flashes to keep it at bay.
In the bathroom,
I practice my Surprise! face in the broke mirror.
Two shards turn “Surprise!” ugly.
Slippery.
Something that won’t stay
tacked
to the face in the mirror;
which is me and not me and almost me and never me,
disappearing me,
all in one swallow.