Copyright: verastuchelova

Story for My Sister
 

The moon sits on the left shoulder
of Cristo Redentor. At least,
that’s the way it seems to you
from your gutter in Rio.
You lay down here
to cool off in the fire
hydrant spray, one of the best
hangover remedies. This time,
the white marble Redeemer lends
his healing to the water. You loop
your red scarf around the lamp post,
pull yourself up, happy ever after.

That’s the end of your story,
which began on the dark side
of the moon, once upon a time
in a deep pit of tar, lined with bones
of wolves that roamed the airless surface.
Moonbirds pecked at their eyes.
You had to feel your way
from there, from the bottom, up
the rungs of the ladder of curb stones,
with no one to guide you. That’s the long,
scary part of the story.

About This Poem:

• This poem was published in Serving House Journal in the Fall 2015 issue.
• I wrote it from a prompt given by Stephen Dunn that had very specific requirements: a moon over Rio, a red scarf. Not the green paisley scarf from “Persephone.”
• I lived in Rio as a child. Both of my younger sisters were born there. That began the poem for me, but I struggled with the ending.
• Halfway through the Spring 2013 semester, while I was working on this poem, I went to the Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) Conference in Boston. Through a confluence of events, I had an ancient used copy of Voices of the Forest by Lisel Mueller. I read it on the train on the way home. When I found her poem “Bedtime Story,” I found the ending I needed for my poem.