Issue 22 - 1992

Coe Review • Issue 22
This is the secret here, she says. The secret sound of words, the
secret dream of everything that is not stella. You love the word
already as you pull it from the grandma’s mouth, the grandma’s eyes
round and wide and glassy with something which is not moonlight.
This is hard. This is real. You place the word on the tip of your
tongue, salty on your fingertips. Your throat hurts the word,
growling like a dog. “Tor, taw, ter,” you say. And the moonlight
pulsing in the shelter, and the toad hopping in the dark. “Tord, tawd,
toad,” you say, and that’s it there. That’s the word in your mouth
now. “Toad.” Its salty taste, its scaly skin. “Toad.” And the grandma
doesn’t say anything, just looking at you. Very tired now, very
sleepy. “Toad toad toad,” you say. And the grandma says Aaaah very
softly, very tired. Goes to sleep and her mouth falls open. Then you
hear the other word there. Sssss. Sssss. Sea sand spider. Spider.
Spider.
You say “Toad” at breakfast and mother gives you french
toast with syrup, and you eat the syrup with your tiny spoon, and jam
with your toast. “Toad toad toad,” and the grandma in her chair with
her soggy food, dreaming of other words beneath the yard. “Toad
toad, toad toad toad.” And mother gives you a big hug, and the
marcie gives you a hate face. But dad says It’s original sin. My pure
little brain case has fallen into the world of already fallen language.
Great. More talk, more words. Everybody in the world will be
talking someday. Today I think I’ll look for a job. I gotta get out of
this fucking house.
And mrs. evans says Cognitive aphasia, positive
reinforcement, syntactic redevelopment, and makes mother watch as
she feeds you more m&ms. “Toad toad toad.” And mother says I’m
so grateful to the lord, and you open the big picture book and Point
point point and everything is “Toad toad toad.” And then the other
thing in the shelter, the other thing tickling in the grandma’s mouth.
“Spire,” you say. “Spiner. Spider. Toad toad toad.” And everybody
in the entire world loves you, just like mother.
There’s no big rush, little cracked brain, dad says, you in his
lap and the television on. There’s no real hurry. That’s all you’re
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