Silence by Jeff Munnis
wheel
my breath hurt I coughed
the sailboat was grounded in shallow mud
When I looked up I saw Alan standing in a flatboat
the green metal hull glided over the water
There was no time to set a fire and run
I waited and watched his red face come closer
Bottom grass grabbed the propeller
stalled the motor
Alan just let go walked off the front of the boat
into the thigh-deep water
in his green dress pants and white shirt
He pulled himself over the side of the sailboat
mud water and sweat spewing out from every limb
I stood there and he knocked me down
and I stood again and pushed him in the chest
He grabbed my shirt
we both toppled into the mud
We slugged at each other
Humiliated angry
I believed I could force him to stop
He wanted to put me in a place
he believed I belonged
I fought with my hands open afraid to make a fist
and when I understood
I turned my back
and walked away
(the scar)
I pulled my boat onto a narrow mound of sand behind some Australian Pines
between Indian River Avenue and the water
Broken concrete pipes curbs and sidewalk formed a barrier
to waves
Dry seaweed and grass crunched under my feet
I looked at the water in the afternoon light
every day of my life I looked at the water
No matter what happened to me in or on the river
I was drawn back
to look across the water to explore the shoreline
to stare at the mud and grass
to take out a small boat so I could feel the bottom of the boat
bounce across the top of the waves
The patch of sand where I stood was disappearing
The road was widened and re-paved
A bank was built near the post office
The car dealership on US 1 expanded
and a parking lot with lights held rows of cars
A drainage canal was cut from the new road to the river
and it became a small swamp
of stagnant water cattails palm seedlings
full of minnows
Tadpoles appeared after light rains and then died
The air carried a sulfurous odor
I came here when I wanted to think
A place that reminded me of my dreams
then the feeling disappears
like the wake behind a boat when it reaches shore
A scar wraps around my leg behind the knee
reminds me of the cut made by oyster shells when I was five
A cut that burned and chilled me
caused me to shake as I stood in the water
I walked out and the blood trailed behind me in the water like a red string
I watched it drip in the seaweed while I cried
At the hospital a doctor behind a curtain
told my mother how they would close the wound
He insisted there would not be a scar
since I was so young
(tied perfectly)
I figured everything out from the white deposit slip
account numbers in red ink
and hand written ledgers stored in a brick lined room
The stairs climbed steeply up
toward a rectangular hole in a second floor of rough sawn wood
Light from the windows fell to the opposite wall
When my eyes adjusted I could make out the writing
on each cardboard box tied shut
I cut the string with a pocket-knife and it popped
dust into the light
Everything neatly arranged by date
Inside each box folders in sequence by account number
an index of names in alphabetical order
Sarah’s account started 21years ago with a deposit of $19.11
deposits all made in a transfer from one bank number
a trust account held by the bank
and in that box the next account number opened the same day
had deposits made to a doctor in Winter Park
an old man with sharp memory
He smiled when I walked in his office
He said he wondered if I would find him before he died
told me he no longer cared about my father
His eyes closed but his face looked in my direction
as he told me about the midwife and Sarah’s delivery of Julia
my illegitimate sister with blonde hairs mixed with red and black
the day she was born the house was filled
with the smell of orange blossoms and dry seaweed
The midwife was a black woman tall and stooped over
arms wiry and long fingers
Strong
She was gentle with Julia brushed her hair
exposed the red and blonde to the light
Tears were in her eyes when she looked into Sarah’s face
She bit her lips into a straight line
he checked Julia’s heartbeat watched her breathe
The cord was cut and tied perfectly
The doctor opened his eyes and smiled
I pictured the string on the bank box tied shut with a perfect knot
until my knife slid underneath
(my eyes my ears)
I sat across from Harriet
Her hair gray and short
The chair sagged
her elbows were held up by the armrests
a cane draped across her knees
Her brown neck was still behind the collar of her dress
She looked defiant
I understood
She laughed when I told her my name
said I looked like Alan
She said she went to Alan when Julia was born
cursed him
and left the bank trembling
because a black woman had no power in a white man’s bank
even if she had money
She asked me why didn’t I know Julia was my half-sister
Did I have ears to hear or eyes to see
or had the Lord closed my eyes my ears and my mind
to the truth that stared back at me every day in the world
Don’t I want to know anything
or do I just walk through the world and pretend
it is better to be ignorant of how people are
how Alan is
How can I not see the differences or do I just ignore them
and go on like I have nothing to do with it
because that would be a lot of nothing
I didn’t know what to ask her because I could have come to her long ago
to ask about Julia and Sarah
It was nothing
and I was nothing in regard to what I should know
about myself and a girl who shared my blood
even if that blood was gray as lead
and filled with the weight of privilege and ignorance
I looked at my hands and the tips of my fingers
where I bit at my nails and where dirt collected between my fingers
I looked at Harriet and the smooth skin without a wrinkle
her fingers brown with age
white with dryness
her fingertips hard as wood
when she grasped my arm to stand up and walk with me
She held her cane out and touched the floor before she pushed ahead
wiry strength
light as air her dress flowed
and her long narrow feet delicate
Each step landed firm and secure
she in her body comfortable
When I got home I went
to the kitchen
and rinsed my hands with cold water and then hot water
while I scrubbed at the dirt until they were raw
My beach sand skin red with blood where I scrubbed
down below the dry crusted salty burn from the Florida sun
(two boys)
I floated down from the railroad bridge
where lights hung over the water
Late night fishermen watched for shrimp
or dropped their lines to catch fish feeding off the growth on the pilings
The river edge was like a mirror
that blended into the grass and palms
Over the tops of the trees I saw the light from cars
that traveled down the roads in the citrus groves
the lights of a house between the trees
Two hours I bounced on the waves
smelled the fuel
and felt sweat collect under my arms
Then I turned off the motor and drifted
I could not be seen
I could not see the shoreline
Above me I could see stars
Sound carried across the water
whispers a hundred yards away like someone sat next to me
Two boys at the edge of the river
It’s dark
Yeah
Don’t talk too loud I don’t want my mama to find us
Yeah
Can you see anything
No My legs keep getting scratched when we come down here
I know Blackberry vines
Shit
Shhh What
I stepped in some mud
It’s all right we’ll wash off later
No I lost my shoe
What
It’s in the mud
Goddam
I know I can’t find it
I heard the boys and pictured the gray and black silt on their legs and arms
Man I can’t lose my shoe
My boat touched bottom
and swung around with the current
backwards away from the boys
Their voices faded
I leaned back to look at the sky
felt the gentle rock
and merged with the sound of water
(glass)
Water sounds
the faint echo of glass
I sat up and looked toward the shore
A house
a white shadow among the trees
As the boat drifted I scanned the shoreline
Dark figures moved slowly between the trees
A man leaned forward at the edge of the water
and handed a large bag to another
He slowly submerged the bag in salt water and muck
The sounds came from the bags as they passed from hand to hand
I shifted in the boat
and something fell against the metal gas tank
The sound of the chimes stopped
the shadowy movement was gone
silent
still
Lights on the bridge and lights from the house drifted out of sight
the sky the space between the stars
The boat stopped and I waited for it to swing around in the glassy water
and slip out of the current into a cove of shrubs
I rose up to see the men standing in the river north of me
Four in a row
Each took a bag and handed it
my breath hurt I coughed
the sailboat was grounded in shallow mud
When I looked up I saw Alan standing in a flatboat
the green metal hull glided over the water
There was no time to set a fire and run
I waited and watched his red face come closer
Bottom grass grabbed the propeller
stalled the motor
Alan just let go walked off the front of the boat
into the thigh-deep water
in his green dress pants and white shirt
He pulled himself over the side of the sailboat
mud water and sweat spewing out from every limb
I stood there and he knocked me down
and I stood again and pushed him in the chest
He grabbed my shirt
we both toppled into the mud
We slugged at each other
Humiliated angry
I believed I could force him to stop
He wanted to put me in a place
he believed I belonged
I fought with my hands open afraid to make a fist
and when I understood
I turned my back
and walked away
(the scar)
I pulled my boat onto a narrow mound of sand behind some Australian Pines
between Indian River Avenue and the water
Broken concrete pipes curbs and sidewalk formed a barrier
to waves
Dry seaweed and grass crunched under my feet
I looked at the water in the afternoon light
every day of my life I looked at the water
No matter what happened to me in or on the river
I was drawn back
to look across the water to explore the shoreline
to stare at the mud and grass
to take out a small boat so I could feel the bottom of the boat
bounce across the top of the waves
The patch of sand where I stood was disappearing
The road was widened and re-paved
A bank was built near the post office
The car dealership on US 1 expanded
and a parking lot with lights held rows of cars
A drainage canal was cut from the new road to the river
and it became a small swamp
of stagnant water cattails palm seedlings
full of minnows
Tadpoles appeared after light rains and then died
The air carried a sulfurous odor
I came here when I wanted to think
A place that reminded me of my dreams
then the feeling disappears
like the wake behind a boat when it reaches shore
A scar wraps around my leg behind the knee
reminds me of the cut made by oyster shells when I was five
A cut that burned and chilled me
caused me to shake as I stood in the water
I walked out and the blood trailed behind me in the water like a red string
I watched it drip in the seaweed while I cried
At the hospital a doctor behind a curtain
told my mother how they would close the wound
He insisted there would not be a scar
since I was so young
(tied perfectly)
I figured everything out from the white deposit slip
account numbers in red ink
and hand written ledgers stored in a brick lined room
The stairs climbed steeply up
toward a rectangular hole in a second floor of rough sawn wood
Light from the windows fell to the opposite wall
When my eyes adjusted I could make out the writing
on each cardboard box tied shut
I cut the string with a pocket-knife and it popped
dust into the light
Everything neatly arranged by date
Inside each box folders in sequence by account number
an index of names in alphabetical order
Sarah’s account started 21years ago with a deposit of $19.11
deposits all made in a transfer from one bank number
a trust account held by the bank
and in that box the next account number opened the same day
had deposits made to a doctor in Winter Park
an old man with sharp memory
He smiled when I walked in his office
He said he wondered if I would find him before he died
told me he no longer cared about my father
His eyes closed but his face looked in my direction
as he told me about the midwife and Sarah’s delivery of Julia
my illegitimate sister with blonde hairs mixed with red and black
the day she was born the house was filled
with the smell of orange blossoms and dry seaweed
The midwife was a black woman tall and stooped over
arms wiry and long fingers
Strong
She was gentle with Julia brushed her hair
exposed the red and blonde to the light
Tears were in her eyes when she looked into Sarah’s face
She bit her lips into a straight line
he checked Julia’s heartbeat watched her breathe
The cord was cut and tied perfectly
The doctor opened his eyes and smiled
I pictured the string on the bank box tied shut with a perfect knot
until my knife slid underneath
(my eyes my ears)
I sat across from Harriet
Her hair gray and short
The chair sagged
her elbows were held up by the armrests
a cane draped across her knees
Her brown neck was still behind the collar of her dress
She looked defiant
I understood
She laughed when I told her my name
said I looked like Alan
She said she went to Alan when Julia was born
cursed him
and left the bank trembling
because a black woman had no power in a white man’s bank
even if she had money
She asked me why didn’t I know Julia was my half-sister
Did I have ears to hear or eyes to see
or had the Lord closed my eyes my ears and my mind
to the truth that stared back at me every day in the world
Don’t I want to know anything
or do I just walk through the world and pretend
it is better to be ignorant of how people are
how Alan is
How can I not see the differences or do I just ignore them
and go on like I have nothing to do with it
because that would be a lot of nothing
I didn’t know what to ask her because I could have come to her long ago
to ask about Julia and Sarah
It was nothing
and I was nothing in regard to what I should know
about myself and a girl who shared my blood
even if that blood was gray as lead
and filled with the weight of privilege and ignorance
I looked at my hands and the tips of my fingers
where I bit at my nails and where dirt collected between my fingers
I looked at Harriet and the smooth skin without a wrinkle
her fingers brown with age
white with dryness
her fingertips hard as wood
when she grasped my arm to stand up and walk with me
She held her cane out and touched the floor before she pushed ahead
wiry strength
light as air her dress flowed
and her long narrow feet delicate
Each step landed firm and secure
she in her body comfortable
When I got home I went
and rinsed my hands with cold water and then hot water
while I scrubbed at the dirt until they were raw
My beach sand skin red with blood where I scrubbed
down below the dry crusted salty burn from the Florida sun
(two boys)
I floated down from the railroad bridge
where lights hung over the water
Late night fishermen watched for shrimp
or dropped their lines to catch fish feeding off the growth on the pilings
The river edge was like a mirror
that blended into the grass and palms
Over the tops of the trees I saw the light from cars
that traveled down the roads in the citrus groves
the lights of a house between the trees
Two hours I bounced on the waves
smelled the fuel
and felt sweat collect under my arms
Then I turned off the motor and drifted
I could not be seen
I could not see the shoreline
Above me I could see stars
Sound carried across the water
whispers a hundred yards away like someone sat next to me
Two boys at the edge of the river
It’s dark
Yeah
Don’t talk too loud I don’t want my mama to find us
Yeah
Can you see anything
No My legs keep getting scratched when we come down here
I know Blackberry vines
Shit
Shhh What
I stepped in some mud
It’s all right we’ll wash off later
No I lost my shoe
What
It’s in the mud
Goddam
I know I can’t find it
I heard the boys and pictured the gray and black silt on their legs and arms
Man I can’t lose my shoe
My boat touched bottom
and swung around with the current
backwards away from the boys
Their voices faded
I leaned back to look at the sky
felt the gentle rock
and merged with the sound of water
(glass)
Water sounds
the faint echo of glass
I sat up and looked toward the shore
A house
a white shadow among the trees
As the boat drifted I scanned the shoreline
Dark figures moved slowly between the trees
A man leaned forward at the edge of the water
and handed a large bag to another
He slowly submerged the bag in salt water and muck
The sounds came from the bags as they passed from hand to hand
I shifted in the boat
and something fell against the metal gas tank
The sound of the chimes stopped
the shadowy movement was gone
silent
still
Lights on the bridge and lights from the house drifted out of sight
the sky the space between the stars
The boat stopped and I waited for it to swing around in the glassy water
and slip out of the current into a cove of shrubs
I rose up to see the men standing in the river north of me
Four in a row
Each took a bag and handed it