Saint Nobody

Saint Nobody

17 Saint Nobody 1. After great snow, the sun stings my window, mad god who frightened infant Blake. Random aches—first sign, no doubt, of some rare terminal disease—make me wish I had no body at all I ain’t got nobody nobody nobody Lately the pain is sharpest where my wings would be. Some days I’m like the Nobody in Goodnight Moon: Goodnight comb Goodnight brush Goodnight Nobody Goodnight mush Others, I’m Nobomommy to Blake’s Nobodaddy— that raggedy god always spouting No—No—No— sporting the holy fool’s cap and bells. 18 2. Nobody’s Catechism: Do you believe life is supposed to be less difficult than it is? Once I believed, but now my eyes are open. What now do you believe? Life is difficult, because it is difficult. Do you really believe life is what it is? It’s difficult to say. Nobody’s Communion: Take and eat, this is my body We eat until no body is left. A mother is her own body feeding, bleeding When somethin’ is wrong with my baby Somethin’ is wrong with me The baby is wrong—the wrong baby—who? Nobaby. No, Baby. 19 3. She chose you, the midwife told us. But the choice was ours. I have to know, I’d terminate—I couldn’t handle it. I could’ve had the test, we could’ve known, but we chose ignorance, had faith. These children are God’s special angels. That’s wrong, as wrong as Luther was to call an idiot farm boy changeling, order him drowned. The local prince refused. Luther bade the people pray to be delivered from this devil, who died within the year. 20 4. The word retarded, tossed from a dear friend’s mouth, feels sharp as swords or stones. I am no saint. I don’t know how you do it. How? I don’t. Ah, vestigial angel-parts ache to emerge. Nobody’s Proverb: It is better to be Nobody, white figure in a cold upstairs window, than the bearer of an errant womb. persona non grata, errata Who’s there? Nobody here but us— Nobody. ...