Sleep cycles
Judith Mendoza-White
he loved rugby, my Kenny she points at trophies
lined up on the mantelpiece,
figures of hunching men in gold and silver
defending a ball from other men, or boys,
I’m not close enough to tell manly proportions
or sweetness of unbearded jaws. Kenny
was not a man yet — does permission to legally drink
grant manhood status? oh he was happy, or at least — I mean, we
gave him everything she sips her tea, swallows
camomile and silence, she dries dry eyes –
a phoenix bird on the paper napkin
too pretty to be used against cake crumbs or tears
a good son, yes, never gave us
a hard time — except perhaps sleep, as a baby
sleep cycles, the midwife said
can take time to flow her eyes point me towards
a photograph, the smile
a glimmer of Invisalign and youth how could we, I mean
first car for his birthday, he’d always loved
red — but did he? because soon afterwards the phoenix bird fights off
wet mascara so sporty, just like his father
girls loved his ways wide-open eyes in the photo, waiting
for the story to go on,
for happy endings like a school movie hero, he was
one of those bound to end up with the class queen
a speck of sugar trembles on her lip
saltwater hangs onto one eyelid
drowns in paper feathers
if only
if only she repeats
The tea’s gone cold long ago, but she does not know, and I
don’t say it. I look down to the murky, still surface,
cradle the cup in sacrifice of warmth, stare
at the phoenix bird folded on her lap
still unmoved
Judith Mendoza-White is a bilingual writer who writes in English and in her native Spanish. Two of her novels have been published by Grupo Planeta, one of the main publishing houses in the Spanish-speaking world, in 2018 and 2022. Her memoir Tracings of Home was shortlisted by The Emma Press in 2021. Her poetry and short stories have appeared in publications in UK and Australia. She is currently a Masters of Creative Candidate at the University of Oxford, UK.
