Song Of The Introvert
Not made for crowds
Mama is calling but I don’t hear. I am lost in a book. Devouring words and sentences with my eyes. Filling up ears, head, belly, can’t hear nothing. Lost in pages, long disappeared. Barely there, except in body.
She flings open the closet, says what are you doing? I wince at the light, turn off the flashlight, look up. My face says can’t you see the book in my hands but my mouth has manners. Says I was just reading, mama.
Supper’s ready she says, we’re all waiting on you. I’m sorry mama, I say. Jump up, drop flashlight on the floor, put the book on my bed, run wash my hands. Sit at the table, say sorry I made you wait, I was reading.
What were you reading, daddy asks and I start to say about the girl in the forest and the bird but someone says pass the potatoes please and someone else tells about school, and someone kicks someone under the table and mama says cut it out you kids and someone complains about beans, asks if there’s dessert and I just. Can’t. With all the voices. All at once.
My words trail away, fall on the floor with the scraps the dog scuffles for and just quietly I eat potatoes, beans, chicken, round and round. Say thank you for supper mama. Yes mama, I know it’s my turn to dry dishes.
