And What Big Teeth They Had

And What Big Teeth They Had

In the midst of a far off woods a small wolf with very large paws bounded down the path away from the home where his mother lay sleeping in bed. Sunlight dappled the floor of the woods and the little wolf snapped his baby teeth at the streams of light as if they were a tasty pigeon or squirrel.

            In the middle of sleep, the young wolf had awoken very suddenly, his throat parched, and he had stumbled outside into the sunlight to drink water from the stream. Water dribbled from the young wolf’s chin as he looked up and saw, just a stone’s throw away, a girl in a bright red cape and hood. ‘My, what big round eyes,’ the little wolf thought. She blinked up at him. The little wolf felt something well up inside of his chest – at first he thought he may need to run behind a tree for he had had too much to drink too quickly, and then he thought he may be hungry, but instead of drooling over the thought of food his mouth had gone completely dry again. Then, for reasons he did not understand, he turned to the little girl, with her deep brown eyes and untamed brown hair and barked at her: “You must come home to meet my Mother.”

            That’s it! The little wolf thought. He wanted to bring this girl, with her cute red hood, home to eat a marvelous dinner – of rabbits and berries and birch bark – with his mother. Then they could sit in the back of the den, playing games with the night crawlers and she could rub him behind the ears. The little wolf shivered at the thought of being pet and it took him a second to notice the whoosh of red as the cape whipped swiftly around. The little girl was walking away!

            The little wolf bounded down the path after her. “You’re going the wrong way!” said the wolf. The little girl ignored him and sped up. Desperate, the little wolf reached out with his teeth. The girl pulled the cape closer and the little wolf’s jaws snapped shut on air. He fell flat on his tummy. The little girl turned around, and with the basket in her right arm, she bashed the little wolf on the head and ran away. Dazed and confused, the little wolf lay on his back, with the little girl and her pretty brown eyes looking down on him.

            “My mother taught me not to be tricked by wolves. If I was her, I would have cut your heart out and cooked it by now. But I’ll give you this chance. Never try to trick me again, you little beast!”

            The little wolf’s heart sang – it felt as if the little girl was cutting his heart out with her harsh words but at the same time, he wanted to know more about this girl, who was unafraid of his kind. He let out a tiny howl.

            “Please little girl, come home with me, come to my home in the fat oak tree – I wish for you to dine with me!” he begged.

            The little girl raised her nose in the air and turned around and the wolf watched her fade through the trees.

            The next day, when the sun shone high and the little wolf’s mother was again asleep, the little wolf tootled through the trees. His paws dragged across the ground and his face was down.

            “What’s wrong little pup?” said a voice from above. The voice came from a bird planted on the highest branch of pine tree. The little wolf squinted. He recognized the sparrow – the wolf wondered if he had eaten one of the bird’s siblings recently.

            “Come on you charming little fellow, what has got you so glum?”

            “I saw a girl with a pretty red cape – she looked pleasant and soft but when I asked for her to accompany me to dinner with mom in our fat oak tree she hit me with a basket and said no. I just want to get to know her.” said the little wolf.

            “Did you growl at her?” the sparrow asked.

            “Perhaps a little…” the wolf said, scuffing his paws on the piled up leaves.

            The bird clapped his wing to his face and sighed. “It’s a girl, you stupid wolf. Girls will only respond if you compliment them.”

            “Aha!” said the little wolf. “That’s what I didn’t do.”

            “Try it, why not.” Said the sparrow. “That’s how I got my last four ex wives.”

The little wolf bounded to the path to sit and wait for the girl so he could compliment her on her lovely red cape. He waited all day and at half past noon, he saw the little girl skipping towards him. A wind blew from behind the girl, and the scent of lilacs and bacon wafted towards the wolf. ‘My, little girl, what delectable perfume you wear!’ thought the little wolf. When she neared the tree in the bend where the little wolf hid he sprang from a bush. He recited:

            “You are so lovely, little girl – you have the thighs of a fresh chicken, and smell of a chortle house – your wild hair billows in the breeze like thistles – oh won’t you please come home with me? I’ll prepare you a dinner in my fat oak tree!” Just as the little wolf was about to compliment her big beautiful eyes, the little girl took a spatula from her basket and held it up, menacingly.

            “Is that all I am to you, wolf? A bag of bones wrapped in bacon? Take your empty compliments and shove them back in your mouth. There is more to me than meat on a stick.” The little wolf backed away and let the little girl pass. The scent of lilacs lingered for a long time after. The wolf trudged home. On his way back, a turtle poked her head out from the shell she was renting.

            “Tsk, tsk.” The turtle said. She was old and wrinkled but she smiled patiently at the little wolf. “All those words and not a single present? How are you to woo the girl without presents?”

            “Of course!” the little wolf howled in delight. How could he not have realized. He went in search of gifts to shower on the little girl. It took him late into the daylight to set it all up, but by the next morning, exhausted and dragging his feet, it was finished.

            This time when the little girl wandered through the woods she would stop near the fork in the road to his house where the little wolf would hide. All night long he had caught mice, killed them and used their bodies to create a large heart. He had been very careful to cut them evenly so that the little girl might not be frightened and so that there was very little blood.

            When the morning came, the wolf hid behind his boulder, and waited for the scent of bacon and lilacs to wander down the path. As he waited a snake slithered by. The snake looked from the dead mice to the little wolf and shook her long neck.

            “Child, what are you doing?”

            “I set out a present for the little girl – I wish to invite her to dinner, and complimenting her did nothing so I wanted to give her a gift.” The snake shifted uncomfortably.

            “Child, Don’t you know anything? Little girls are scared of blood and mice – you must cover that up, quickly! I can smell her coming!” The little wolf, his nose twitching with the fresh scent of iron and pheasant, scrambled out of the woods to the fork. He kicked the dead mice down the slope and tried to cover them with the fallen maple leaves. On the edge of his vision he could see the little girl walking towards him and so he hid behind a flower patch. When the little girl reached the fork in the road she stopped. The wolf stretched his neck. To his horror, there, at the foot of the path, sat a small mouse, split cleanly down the middle. He had missed one! But the little girl did not run. Instead she kneeled down to the ground and took plastic gloves from her pocket. She seemed to be talking to herself. The little wolf perked up his ears.

            “-And the ventral aspect of the thyroid shows swelling… hmm… that, in combination with this old puncture wound of the duodenum may have caused death through sepsis – I wonder…”

            ‘My, Little girl! What a fantastic knowledge of mouse anatomy, biology and history you have! And her voice tinkled when she wasn’t yelling too!’ Thought the little wolf. The little wolf looked for someone to tell him what to do. Gone was the bird in the canopy above. Gone was the tortoise, interfering with the youth. Gone was the snake, slithering to meet her family. The little wolf was on his own again. He stepped from the flowers. He thought about walking up to her but he stood far away. He didn’t notice that some of the mouse’s blood had fallen on the little girl’s sneaker, nor that a few leaves stuck out oddly in her flyaway hair.

            “Excuse me-“

            “You again!” said the little girl. She turned sharply and brandished a knife at him.

            “I just wanted to ask you what you were saying – What is a thyroid?” said the wolf.

            “Why do you want to know?” asked the little girl.

            “You just sounded so smart and I was told you would run away from the dead mouse.”

            “Run away?” said the girl. Leaves drifted among the trees and new patches of sun opened into the woods. “Why would I run away from a dead mouse?  When I can learn so much from it? Why run when I could learn?”

            “Then why do you run away from me?” said the wolf. He thought about lifting a paw and padding closer to the girl but did not. He stood where he was.

            “My mother said wolves are dark and bad because when she was young and wore this hood, one tried to eat her and grandma for good.” The young wolf nodded.

            “That is why you ran when I asked you to come for dinner!” She thought I would eat her! The little wolf’s ears flattened. “I was told not to approach humans – a human killed my great grandfather. But you were so pretty and I wanted to meet you –“

            “But I don’t want to just be pretty- “ said the little girl, blinking her big eyes.

            “And then I was told you would talk to me if I showered you with gifts and then I was told not to frighten you!” The little girl shook her head and put down her basket.

            “And now?” The little girl asked.

            “You seem interesting to talk to. I wish to know you better.”

The little girl smiled but it faded like melting frost. The sun faded behind clouds. “You cannot take me, not back with you, to your house in the fat oak tree.” The little girl wrung her hands together. Slowly she walked across the crunching pine needles of the woods to the wolf. She lay a soft hand on the wolf’s head and patted his head awkwardly.

            “If you cannot come home with me, through the woods to my fat oak tree… what If I were to go with you? To your dinner feast and maybe dessert too?” The little wolf held his breath, gazing into the big round eyes of the little girl. The little girl nodded and took the little wolf’s paw in her hand. They walked down the path towards the little girl’s cottage on the edge of the woods. The little girl told the young wolf to wait outside and jumped up the steps and through the door. The little wolf sat in front of the house and listened to the power lines swaying above. The sun shone weakly through the clouds. The little girl popped her head out of the door and beckoned the little wolf to come inside.

            The wolf only realized he was nervous when he stepped through the door and a thousand eyes stared at him from everywhere. They were the heads of animals, stuffed and mounted on the wall. Bison and beavers and woodchucks and hogs: froggies and eels and squirrels stuck in bogs. There were duckbills and deer heads and fawns and their stags – And there, above the mantle place was fixed a great cougar. Nowhere, the pup realized, was there a wolf-skin. The little wolf gulped. At a sturdy round table there sat the wolf’s little girl, her broad hairy father, her mother dressed in a coat of animal tails, and four steaks, medium rare. The smell was too enticing and the young wolf approached, crossing over the skin of a fox as he did.

            “This is my friend, the wolf.” The little girl said, hanging her coat on the radiator next to her chair.

            “A pleasure.” Said the mother. Her eyes were daggers, digging into him. The girl’s father merely grunted.

            “Bon’apetite!” The little girl cried, and the family and the wolf tucked into their steaks with vicious appetite. The wolf chewed his food nervously and wiped his lips carefully. When they had all finished a silence sat over the table and the eyes on the walls started at the little wolf. After a few minutes searching for something to say, the wolf got up and bowed that he should be on his way.

            “Wait just a moment.” The girl’s mother said. “You must not leave now. We have only just met.” The women stood up. She was holding a knife. Before his eyes the wolf saw pass his entire life. He had never eaten enough shrews! He was too young to die! The woman approached, with the knife pointed down. She held it firmly in her hand. The wolf backed into the wall. He looked at the little girl – her smile was pink and her big eyes excited and laughing. The woman came towards him with the knife and it shot passed the wolf’s face like a cobra. The wolf closed his eyes.

            “Here, little wolf, a treat for the road –“

The wolf opened his eyes. To his surprise he found a piece of cake, concocted of venison meat and cream cheese frosting on a plate and a white paper doggy bag. “I have packed one for your mother as well!” said the woman. The wolf breathed a sigh, and sat down where he was on the rope welcome-mat. He ate the entire slice of venison cake in one bite.

“Please,” the woman said, “do come again – our daughter likes you so much and you have little to fear- in fact I have a proposal to put in your ear.” The woman sat down backwards in a hand-carved chair. “You wish to spend time with our dear little girl? How about this. We are hunters, and you are a hunter. We would like you to come with us on a hunt some time. You can keep what you catch and anything else you might find.” The little wolf nodded, he was delighted no doubt. The little girl ran to him and hugged him full out.

            “Your mother is welcome to join us and live here!” The little girl laughed. “She can sit by the fire, and we can feed you extra scraps. We can all go hunting and you’ll fall asleep on our laps!” The wolf agreed heartily and licked the girl on the face. She didn’t taste yummy, only a bit like stale bread. But the wolf was happy to be employed and not dead.

            So this is the story of how dogs came to be. A wolf followed a girl, and they made each other happy. The little wolf brought his mother and they lived just inside. They guarded the doors, and they caught creatures that ran – and balls that were thrown and they played on the land.  And the wolf grew older with the girl at his side getting kisses and petted and venison scraps on the side. They hunted and played and ate well ever more. And what big teeth they had. And what big teeth they had. 

©2015 Lex Vex 

37th Best in America - Poem

37^th Best in America

an urban legend marched down

from the pine-mountain crest

leaning hard on his staff

and dressed in his best

robe of deep purple

pointed hat

and Tevas®

to shop for bananas, chicken nuggets

and yams at the Big Y

he nods

only children clad in jerseys

and patient clerks at the liquor store

whisper a polite hi

things are different

as he is invited into Papa T’s Family Resteraun

(the light in the ‘t’ is out again)

T tosses him a menu

the one with two coffee rings

the wizard always asks for it

even though he orders the same

chicken sandwich and pickle every day

they shoot the shit

in the linoleum box

techno humping the tiles of the kitchen

from the bottom half

of the split level strip mall

the day crowd at Electric Blue (café)

demands a more intimate show

the wizard never goes to the basement

where the girls wait

clutching their silver spear

but when he trudges

down the shared stair

to hit the head

he can see the silhouettes of their legs

splayed as if giving birth in mid-air

he can see the white tablecloths

and crystal goblets

and being a wizard he pisses martinis then heads back upstairs

a soccer mom dines with seven kids

uncomfortably forward

to avoid the gash in the booth seat

where white filling vomits.

when T is busy the wizard throws down a fiver

and splits this grease trap.

the stripper bar’s Christmas lights twinkle gently on him

and he considers

the potential in pink and brown areolas

but trudges past the broken asphalt

across the field of gravel

where the balding stretch of grass gives way

to the interstate

where snow drifts melt

and puddles create

constellations on the ground

not even the wizard daydreams

about Tolland

or patches in mud, though they are malleable

unlike clouds

the wizard slams his hand in a mudpattie

hoping it wasn’t shat by a cow

he understands the cow

trying revenge at teens,

more drunk on adrenalin than pabst blue,

they were to blame when she fell in the rocky soil

head wounds are bloody, even on cattle

and the time she and her sisters

were let loose to wander high school.

there the rumors began

of the wizard

flowing dreadlock beard

his sunglasses pink.

What is his name, again? For real?

the staff rises

high in the strip club parking lot

hailing the billboard

“there’s more to do in Tolland than cow tipping”

©2015 Lex Vex 

No, it ended quietly

No, it ended quietly

Bellatrix has fallen

now all Orion has too.

they forcasted the stars would fall

and some

said it would be beautiful

like incandescent dew

dropped from a doe’s

eye who’d admit

they spoke those words

when the universe contracted

and we really were dead

center.

they glittered as they fell

but no one admitted

it was beautiful then

when sulfur replaced the breezes

and suffocated the trees

with a pillow of ash

and some

said, as it glistened

far off, that it would be cool

like water

but when a gentle flutter

prodded the skin

it burned and

fingers withered into tree twigs

blackened and

crumbled

and some

became survivors

and some

of those artists

and they chopped these twisted fingers

off of corpses

and copied the whole world on a cave wall

until one day

the stars unmelted

reformed and blasted

back into the sky.

©2015 Lex Vex 

Kaori and the Really Really Big Rock (First draft without pictures)

Kaori and the Really, Really Big Rock is a very early attempt of mine at writing children's lit.
For the children at heart. If I have time I may actually complete with Illustrations - I know what they would be should I add them.

Kaori gripped the edge of the cliff face with one hand and sprung upwards with her other. Savannah, a faster climber, stood wither her feet planted firmly on top. Their hands met mid air and they held onto each other’s wrist. Kaori felt Savannah pulling her and walked her feet up the incline to help. Just one more step and – Kaori pulled Savannah into a tight hug and looked out at the view. To Kaori the trees looked like saplings from up here, and her dad, sitting on the bench, was so small Kaori was sure that if he stood in front of them she would tower over him by half a foot. Kaori and Savannah dangled their legs from the edge of the big rock.

            “Dragons, princesses or pirates?” Savannah asked.

            “We always play those.” Kaori said. “This rock is getting kind of small for that – we need a bigger cave, a cooler castle and a stronger ship.”

            “Yeah,” Savannah said. “We could play on the playground?”

            Kaori wrinkled her nose. “No – It’s not the same. What we need is a bigger rock.”

Kaori pointed across the park, past her dad reading the news, to where three rocks stacked higher and higher until they were the same height as a nearby tree.

Savannah nodded to Kaori and sprang off of the small rock. Kaori carefully climbed back down.

Together they sneaked and crept and tiptoed towards the really big rock. When they neared the bench where Kaori’s dad sat they hid in the heather someone had planted in a flowerbed and bounded from bush to beech tree around the bench. When the girls had gone far enough past her father, they raced out into the open and ran to the rocks. The lumps of stone loomed above them and, from up close looked much taller.

Savannah couldn’t wait to climb it. Kaori could wait a few more minutes.

“What are you waiting for?” Savannah said, fumbling halfway up the first rock.

“Nothing,” Kaori said, glancing past the grass behind her to the bench. She turned and watched Savannah traverse the terrain to the ledge.

“Come on Kaori! It’s only a bit bigger than our small rock.”

Kaori fit her right foot into a crevice and began to climb. Soon, she too stood on the smallest of the really big rocks, grinning from ear to ear. The new rock was longer on top and flat and the girls planned out where they’d put things on their new play pirate ship.

“This would be the bow and the back part, where the other rock starts would be the stern.” Said Kaori.

“We could sleep over there and one side of the rock could be port, and the other starboard and they could switch every other day.”

“Nuhuh,” Kaori said, giggling. “’Port’ means left in sea language, and ‘Starboard’ means right. You can’t just switch them.”

“That makes sense.” Savannah shrugged organizing the sticks she found on the ground and picking the longest one she liked. She tossed another twig to Kaori who caught it.

“I challenge you to a duel” said Savannah.

“A practice duel?” said Kaori.

“Of course. We’ll practice and whoever wins gets to be captain.” Said Savannah. The girls pulled from their pocket the goggles Savannah’s mom had made. Kaori and Savannah knew how to be responsible pirates. Kaori brandished her twig and lifted it over her head. Savannah bent her knees and got down low. The twigs hit each other with a thwack-tick-tack. Kaori tried not to hit Savannah but swung at her stick as hard as she could. Both sticks broke at the same time, and the fight was over. Savannah picked up her stick. Kaori held her own.

“I guess we’ll have to be captain together.” Said Savannah.

“Partners.” Kaori agreed.

“You’re the only person I’d partner with for Piracy.”

Kaori smiled at Savannah. They held hands as they chucked their broken twigs in the woods.

“Ahoy, Matey.” A deep voice called from below.

“Ahoy,” called the girls.

“The park is closing soon. It’s time to abandon ship!” Kaori’s dad stood below the rock with his arms open to catch them. Savannah jumped the rest of the way down. Kaori climbed the whole way herself.

When Kaori was alone in the car with her dad, after they dropped Savannah safe on her street, her dad scruffled her hair but gave her a stern look.

“Next time you go to the really big rocks,” he said, “Bring me along.”

“Ok dad.” Kaori said.

“And I don’t want you climbing any higher than the second rock, alright?”

“But Dad!” Kaori said.

“Not until you’re older.” Said Dad.

“Alright,” Kaori said, smiling as her dad started the windshield wipers. Sprinkles of water dotted the glass, but Kaori didn’t care. She would turn seven next week. Then maybe she’d be old enough to climb the really really big rock.

Kaori looked out the window. She watched the raindrops race along the pane of glass and cheered for the ones that finished first. The car’s slow humming made her feel sleepy. She closed her eyes and thought about the games she and Savannah always played.

Of course they played pirates. They did not like to plunder from people but they liked tracking treasure with maps they drew and wandering through the park. Quartz and pyrite were worth real gold and they kept a small pile hidden in a hole in a tree trunk.

Other times they pretended to be bears or lions or more often dragons. They would roam their rock on all fours and growl and hiss and paw at the rock when someone approached. They were smart lions though, and sometimes they’d curl up and read a book or draw with chalk. They’d have more space to draw now that they had a bigger rock.

A few days later Kaori and Savannah went to the park again. Kaori still wanted to climb the really big rock. She tugged and pulled her dad’s arm toward the towering boulders, and when they reached the clearing before it, he spread out a blanket, pulled out a book and sat down to watch them.

Kaori and Savannah hadn’t played princess in a while, mostly because neither of them wanted to be the knight protecting the castle, or the princess who got to be beautiful but was stuck in the tower. Instead, they decided to both be princesses who protected the castle while the Knight sat in the tower. It was more fun that way.

First they needed a Knight. Kaori turned to ask her father to play the scared Knight but when the girls peered over the edge of the rock, he lay stretched out on the blanket, asleep.

Kaori thought about tickling him to wake him up. Savannah thought about poking him with a stick. Then the girls looked at each other and thought about the really big rock jutting up behind them. But the rock was so inviting and the girls turned around without noticing an extra companion following behind them.

There was enough space on the really big rock for the two girls to climb side by side. They pointed out hand and foot holds to each other and after an easy climb—right hand, left hand, right hand, left hand—they pushed themselves over the edge of the really big rock. The girls sprawled upon the reddish brown stone, laying on their backs and staring into the open sky. They turned over and picked out the sparkling pyrite, milky quartz and rusty garnet. Then they stood up and felt the wind rise underneath them and as they gazed over the park they saw the tops of the trees and a bluebird returning to its nest to feed its babies. On the far side of the rock a shallow cave created a perfect shelter. The girls stuck their heads into the entrance to look and saw stalactites dripping from the ceiling and their twin stalagmites waiting to trip them on the ground.

Suddenly they heard a sound by where they had climbed up: a cracking sound, a muffled thud and the unmistakable sniffle and wailing of a child. Savannah and Kaori ran to the ledge and peered over. A boy, a couple of years younger than the girls, sat on the second rock, clutching his knee with fat teardrops running down his face. He had tried to climb the really big rock and scraped his knee!

Kaori and Savannah scrambled down from the really big rock. When they reached the little boy, they held his hand and helped him down from the big rocks to the ground where Kaori’s dad was waiting. Kaori’s dad did not look angry but helped get the little boy off the rock and cleaned his knee with antiseptic. He let the little boy choose his favorite band aide while he sent Savannah to find the little boy’s mother. He and Kaori told the child jokes and by the time he left with his mother he was smiling again.

Savannah’s mother parked near the pond. While she and Kaori’s dad talked, Kaori and Savannah silently stood near the water and tossed pebbles onto lily pads. When the parents finished talking, Savannah waved and wandered to her mom’s Subaru leaving Kaori alone with her dad. Kaori started onto the path to their own parked van. Her dad didn’t follow. He called her back.

“Kaori, I told you not to climb to the top of the rock,” said Dad.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to disappoint you,” said Kaori.

Kaori’s dad crouched down with his head bowed.

“I disappointed you too. If I had watched, no one would’ve gotten hurt,” said Dad.

“I guess we both need to work harder,” said Kaori, hugging her dad. Without warning he picked Kaori up onto his shoulders. Kaori screamed then giggled.

“I have an idea,” said Dad. “But first we need cake. Someone turns seven tomorrow.”

Kaori woke up minutes before her alarm clock went off but she waited for it to play her favorite song. After shutting it off she ran down the stairs and found, waiting at the bottom, a helmet, a harness, a metal clamp and some rope. A note left on top was attached to a big green bow. It read:

Kaori,

            Something to help you climb to even greater heights. Head in helmet, put on your kneepads, clip the carabineer (the round circle of metal) to your belt, and remember to carry the rope and harness when you come to the car. Meet me outside and we’ll really reach for those rocks at the Get a Little Boulder rock climbing gym.

                                        Love,

Dad

Kaori ran outside and hopped in the car. Kaori wished her dad would weave between the traffic to get there faster but she made sure to give him kisses and thank him endlessly. Soon, Kaori held the heavy door open for her father and rushed in behind him. The view inside took Kaori by surprise. Walls jutted from odd angles. On the sculptures and walls and even on the ceiling colorful handholds were tightly fastened.

“Howdy there, you must be Kaori!” A tanned and tall man with long hair in a ponytail came from behind the counter. “My name is Chet—Are you ready to rock?”

Kaori nodded with as big a smile as she could make. Her dad, their gear on his shoulder, followed them to the cubbies.

First Chet talked Kaori and her Dad through putting on their gear.

“Make sure this big loop goes in front and that your leg holes are snug.”

“Legs are snug! Loop in front!” Kaori giggled as Chet had to help her dad turn his harness around.

Harnessed up and ready, the group marched over to a rock wall with a rope hanging from the ceiling. Chet showed Kaori how to tie a figure eight knot and leave a strong loop, and how to clip that loop through her carabineer and onto her harness.

“Remember to always clip in so that the carabineer scrapes your belly!” Chet said. “And always twist it and lock it tight. Squeeze it not once, but twice.”

Then it was Kaori’s dad’s turn to learn. Chet gave him a small piece of metal that he called a belay device.

“When belaying someone, remember that you are the climber’s safety net. When you pull in rope, never let go with both hands.” Kaori’s dad practiced pulling in slack, keeping at least one hand always on the rope.

Kaori was getting excited to climb, and when Chet said they were ready, she rushed to the wall and started to put a foot on the prettiest orange foothold. Chet called her back.

“Always make sure everyone is ready.” Chet spoke in a solemn voice.

“Repeat after me.” Chet said, pointing at Kaori. “Belay on.”

“Belay on.” Kaori said.

“Ask the person belaying this before every climb so you know they are ready to catch you with the rope if you fall. Ask every time.” Then he turned to Kaori’s dad. “When asked, if ready, you must respond with ‘Belay is on.’ If you are not ready, tell them that you are not ready. Now practice.”

“Belay on?” Kaori said.

“Belay is on.” Kaori’s dad replied.  

“Now,” Chet said, looking at Kaori. “Ask if you can climb by asking ‘May I climb?’ and then the person belaying responds with ‘Climb Away.’”

“May I climb?” Kaori said.

“Climb away,” Kaori’s dad said with a smile.

Kaori put a foot on the pretty orange foothold again, reached for one above her and started to climb.

When she had climbed to the tippity top a few times, she asked Chet what all the tape was for. Chet laughed.

“When you get more experienced, you can learn to climb routes. To climb a route, follow the color.”

After a few more runs, Kaori’s dad was tired and stood at the store to sign up for classes. Kaori wanted to climb as much as she could.  

On the way home, Kaori fell asleep in the car. When her dad parked, he carried her from the backseat, up the stairs and let her fall asleep on the couch. Before he walked away to cook dinner, Kaori took his hand.

“Thanks dad. I love you.” She said.

“I love you too.” 

Kaori knew she would practice what she learned at rock climbing class every day. It wasn’t long before she convinced Savannah to sign up. Kaori climbed safely. She would clip the carabineer towards her stomach and lock it and check it twice. She would shout “Belay on!” and wait for the reply and wait till her partner said she could climb. She would start on the smaller walls and start climbing routes and one day, when she was really big she would climb rocks even bigger than her really big rock. Maybe she would climb cliffs or swing from stone arches or pick her path up an ice incline. Someday she would touch the sky.

©2015 Lex Vex

Seats for Everyone - Prose Poem/shortshort story

       It was an odd kind of restaurant, outdoors with no tables. But, there was a seat for everyone. For the elder folk like Harry D Hertzog and all the wizened Schlegels, the seats were low and benchlike – mostly for those that had shrunk in age, yet young enough to sit without backrests. Some of the families sat in the same chair—the Ermines had Lydia sit on her sister’s lap, who sat on her husbands, who felt only slight embarrassment at riding along on Uncle Boris’s good knee – though Uncle Boris felt no shame about sitting on top of his father and his father’s father for good measure. Even Lydia knew that at some point, soon, more family would arrive and her own lap would become a chair for someone else, probably her niece, Diane. The youngest guests, like newborn Sanya, had no need for seats at all  and sat on placemats on the ground. They were cute and stylish little settings too – colored with pink bears and taffeta flowers and a whirligig, circling. Herman’s chair was regal, or at least he believed it to be. It was wide and patterned with motifs of Greek columns – and to prove he loved the classics, flanked by pottery, although the embedded browning foliage failed to brighten up the bone chilling winds of the winter. Roming’s chair took the cake and took on the qualities of his favorite Cathedral, with the backrest devised of only superior, gothic arches. Mz. Miller’s seat had a pentagram laced through it while her husband, a Mason, had his own fraternal trademark painted there. Drick, who sat not far away, carved a cross so deeply into his seat that the Miller’s had no choice but to take his zealous art project as a warning to stay out of his way. With so many families in attendance, the restaurant should have been a-howl with laughter and champing, chomping conversation, but all the graveyard is quiet tonight.

©2015 Lex Vex

Echoes of Lightning

Echoes of Lightning

fourteenth summer in a millennia

Paper plates and limp napkins littered the flaky deck like used condoms; we all lay round the yard taking in the unsaturated blue of sky that the whole world fades into when a summer sun waves “goodbye see you tomorrow, 6am sharp, supposing you fair through the night”; the air rinsed us with such humidity and rung us out when the flag bandana girl whipped out the packet of stars; everyone took a few at first lit them to twirl above their heads creating their own halos; but tricky darkness falls wide and moves their palms in pantomime like druids, who swayed in circles, pounding the breast of the bonfire beast; we became witches; we became demons; and those halos sparked us to rebellion; we cursed the air with fire sticks; we burned anagrams into our eyelids so that we could only remember our names in the echoes of lightning; the sound would draw through the air and when we closed our eyes together we knew we saw the same spell cast at different angles; bandana girl and i lay in the grass dipping the fallen stardust in a water trough unaware of other echoes from other sparks that had already begun – but we felt them; the reverberation then – of lightning already forged in gunfire – of lightning that scarred the charred and dust crusted earth of the most recent strike – some 72 hours away from this Pennsylvania memorial – day light unwound now; six bodies six foot down now; cause one guy blew a cow now; cause he couldn’t get his cock mouthed; now those particles vibrate through us and the bright white pointed on our finger guns; but we ain’t got no gun problem; only the sparking fingers that beckon the target and “oops” snap the trigger; the only killing problem is a baby killing problem; the only women problem is a loudmouthed women problem; the only skin problem is a cancer skin problem; only justice is a religious kind of justice so to get anything done why not give away halos like oprah; here’s one for you; here’s one for you; here’s one for your company while your at it; maybe we can invite the foundation to next years picnic – god knows everyone else will already be wearing stripes; maybe it can bring the stars; maybe it will curse us for ornamenting our hair with fireworks and calling ourselves progressive; or warrior; or america; or free; maybe we won’t wear blue; maybe we wont wear white; maybe we will paint ourselves with the echoes of black hands and red coat hangers; maybe we will look up and wish to pluck out a few fifty stars so bandana girl and i can whisper them secrets and kiss them between us and maybe the white lightning will discharge into a beautiful black hole and leave this porch dappled with vapors of the aurora borealis; 

For Chen, Hong, Wang, For Cooper, Michaels-Martinez Weiss, For Brown, For Garner For the Future Infinite

©2014 Lex Vex

The Shadow of Thunder

The Shadow of Thunder

He takes it into

his body

the silence and the scream

He marches

along

 footpaths and trembles the shivering daffodils.

He comes to fill the

silence

between the forking paths

both are steep

though one

winds down to

the guttural chasm which sucks sound from molecules so their

whispers at least may sooth each other

though one

winds up to

a Vulcan crag; he rumbles up the steepness

head lolling drunkenly across the path. He will collapse at zenith

what follows: his pawing for a hollow log to funnel his gasps.

when he retches down the cliff

 the whole

 valley

is

swept up

in vibration

He is not the smack

which crumbles the plaster walls of Jericho

nor the warm

murmurs of ocean caves

;

he is the void

when belief has yet to penetrate and nurse

stigma back

to health

He kisses the bullet-

-biters, and soldiers

leaving their tours half dissolved. His method

of love making

is slow and almost mistaken for

silence

as he

plucks the arrows into quivering

full-bloomed

lips

©2014 Lex Vex