My Linh Tran
The piercing sound shattered my dream.
alarm clock displays a math problem
fifty seven times forty nine.
My dream.
You were in it
Living, talking, moving, blinking your eyes.
But now my mind
is occupied with four digits
four, seven, nine, five.
Math was fun
when I was with you, learning it
now I rack my brain trying to recall you and me
and math.
Right!
You taught me long multiplication!
Nine times seven, nine times five
Four times seven, four times five
Easy. A piece of cake.
but
still a struggle without you.
You grew cold. Math grew difficult.
If only I could touch you
or whisper
into your ears,
that I’ll be you when I grow up
good at math
and
fifty seven times forty nine
would not be a problem.
My ears buzzing
flashbacks jumbled in my head
with numbers
Me. Young. Hot blood. Short-tempered.
Remember when I packed my stuff and swore
to never step back into your house again?
You. Cold. Frosty. Like winter. Like Antarctica.
You didn’t stop me.
I hated you, until that day
you kissed me goodbye, shallow breath
Your lips trembling, your tears hot on my cheek
You said, “See you again.”
But I never did.
Don’t you want to help me with that math problem?
Even in my dream
you melted when I reached out my hands.
Now I fear snow and hate winter,
and math
and you
My dream already shattered.
