"The Arachnid's Child" and "Just So You Know"

The Arachnid’s Child

She is a very lucky little baby. Christabella Jolene is her name, swaddled in a pink blanket. Her mother presses her to her. She kisses her hair. If she wanted to, she could bite her. But she doesn’t. And Mother’s hands are so big and strong they could cover her face. Could smother her. But, she’s a very lucky baby. What kind of thoughts is Mother thinking? That she is beautiful, of course—the sweetest angel in the world, also that she is Mommy’s rock. A rock that she’ll cling to as the years go on. The baby cries a lot—but Mother’s strong—a real Bride of Frankenstein.

Christabella’s inconvenient, but that’s normal of course, keeping everybody up at night when they have to get up early in the morning, but nobody hits her or shakes her hard. Nobody hits her or shakes her hard. Nobody screams in her face to shut up. She’s really lucky that nobody screams in her face to shut up and nobody’s shaken her so hard her head rocks back and forth almost coming off its little stem. Like an apple being shaken from a tree.

Her apple head hasn’t fallen off the tree yet. She is a very lucky baby. She is tucked and swaddled and rocked and fed, there’s not anything she’s missing except for sleeping forever. Mother’s big hands fit all the way around her body, squeezing her like a lime making green juice.  Her mother loves her so and she’ll always be huge like a spider. She’ll live inside her forever and feast on her apple heart.

Just So You Know

There was a time when I could paint without panicking. There were days in which birds flocked to the bird bath, splashing riotously together, a flurry of red and dull feathers. As they waited their turn, some of the birds read Bibles in the shade of the angel fire tree.

I revered them, the patient ones, their godliness, unlike humans, ruled by demons.

But there was a time when our house plants stretched to the ceiling, looming over us, reaching out their grasping fingers, seeking to choke and accuse. I said to them, you criminals, why don’t you just get it over with? Your fresh green leaves are just a disguise.

There were not times when I slept soundly, made dinner, laughed.