American library books » Other » Angel & Hannah by Ishle Park (best romance ebooks TXT) 📕

Read book online «Angel & Hannah by Ishle Park (best romance ebooks TXT) 📕».   Author   -   Ishle Park



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concrete stairwell.

Some minutes later, he emerges: a kid,

untethered and free playing tag.

But Angel knows what lurks under car hulls,

Wolverine-clawed, waiting to snatch Rafi by his ankles

and drag him as prey into its lair. Angel stands guard,

hawk over nest, guarding his brother-prince.

After tag, he buys Rafi a ham sandwich and hot

chocolate at the bodega. And a sour apple Blow Pop for fifteen cents.

No, he thinks. You can’t take him yet. Not without a fight.

I still need him, this side of the light.

Paloma

Paloma’s apartment is a way station for lost angels

tucked deep in Brownsville’s Howard Housing’s projects.

He slips in with dawn, ignores the little Jesuses

praying on sills, dead cousins stiff in army suits,

or pretty-in-pink tĂ­as framed on wooden walls.

Adobo steams the kitchen as Paloma stirs.

Paloma, his abuela, always readying

a hot plate for a hungry mouth, tucking her own griefs

into her netted bun. Angel shifts on the plastic-covered couch.

Stares out the barred window.

Plays Nintendo with Rafi till humid night falls. As he grabs his keys,

he asks Paloma with an outstretched hand, Can you bless me?

She kisses his forehead, gives him a bendiciĂłn, mijo, instead of money.

Nintendo

Rafi hunches forward,

murders buttons. His teeth bite

his lower lip, he snarls as he swings

Bowser 360 degrees into an abyss, green-

fire burning his glasses, he cheers, Yes! I

beat him!

Even the tv sings mechanical praise

and crowns him…Before I go

to the next level, he says, inhaling deep.

He cracks his boyknuckles and grins.

Hannah grins back, tousles his hair. Good

luck, Rafi, she says. Yeah. I need it. He smirks.

She winces. Outside, sunlight dies

slow while his wild sixteen-bit dream begins ~

she sits back to watch Rafi fight his dragon

with flicks of his small joystick.

Paloma’s Prayer

Blessed be my daughter, Alma de Jesus, mother of Angel,

Soledad, y Rafael…rest in peace, Scarface Willy,

once married to Angel’s second cousin Jessie

who made the block’s best pernil,

y por favor, disculpe a TĂ­o Rafael,

un alcohĂłlico y former Latin King released

from Rikers only two weeks before he gave el SIDA

to shy, long-haired Solibel,

who lives across the stairwell

from Angel’s titi Bella;

bendita, they say she cries at night, well

after her three boys be sleeping,

God, watch over her please, as well

as Alma’s baby, my last grandson, Rafi.

Secret (Hannah)

A pain so big I can barely understand it.

Talk with Angel? Yeah right.

But Rafi. Oh Rafi.

No turning back now. How? Once his fingers

locked round my neck & I galloped

him down Crescent, his giggles bubbling like soda pop,

once he made me peanut-buttered toast,

called me BananaFanaMomanaHannah, that’s it.

I’m locked in. Not pity anymore,

or tenderness, it’s too close,

this pain breaks me like old wishes.

He’s my brother now too. And he’s got a secret

tucked in his redblood cells and it hurts

to look at a kid & think about Death…

it hurts cuz his hair sticks up funny when he scratches it, cuz

he burps the McDonald’s theme song, battles dragons, opens

bodega doors for you like a little prince…it’s disgusting

to look at a kid & think about his expiration date. You want to vomit.

And you want him to never vomit,

wanna give him every Marvel comic, every Game Boy,

every small happiness, wanna break Joey’s arm for sucker-punching him,

but you gotta let him fall & fight,

hurt & cry & you must honor his plight,

cuz he doesn’t wanna be babied,

he wants to Live.

So, you let him run, wild,

but corner-eye-spy him, less than a block away,

play older sis for a day.

Angel, his eyes

go soft when he looks at Rafi,

even tho he talks hard like an older brother should.

Nah, girl, we never talk about it — what is there to say?

My little brother got AIDS? No word could change a thing…

he was born with it, he’ll die with it, only question, when…

only solution, make his days as fun & gentle as we can…

and Rafi’s so cute, ma, when he skips between us,

he says, Banana Hannah, Angel — can you fly me?

Please? Fly me! So, we gotta grab his hands and swing him

like a crescent moon, his laughter pealing,

again, again! We gotta lift him for two blocks

till our arms get sore, even when he wants

more, more, more!

So we gotta try ~ we fly him

till he almost grows wings, nena. Ay.

That kid makes my heart sing.

Buggin’

Ooh! Youse is kissing! Rafi shrieks, when

Hannah & Angel flop in bed. He peers up close,

watching from inches away.

Are you guys gonna get married?

Yes, Angel says, now go away.

Rafi disappears, comes back hauling

a waist-high mirror — Look at ya’ll! Look!

He scrunches his face and moans…

two peanut butter jelly sammiches

sit messy on the dresser. Breakfast! Rafi grins.

I made it myself. Hannah takes a bite and kisses him.

Thank you, baby, she says. You’re so sweet…Nah,

I’m a bug…I’m buggin’, he says,

strut ~ hopping into the kitchen.

Monster

El SIDA. Angel calls it the monster under his breath.

At night, it spiders windows with a hammer.

Snatches TĂ­o Demas, two cousins, his mother

from bed. Sucks air out their mouths, blows death

in ~ a grotesque kiss. Thins cheeks to rice paper.

A white moss crystallizes lips. Sores sprout: blossoms.

Wrist-veins, green stems.

Worst, it leaves a mother too thin to give one last blessing

to a devastated son.

Sometimes a man needs

to be held, no questions.

Hannah rubs his lower back in circles.

Her eyes soak in his slump.

I’ll protect you, she wants to say, but can’t.

Rafi’s Voice

When I die I don’t want to be buried

in dirt cuz I saw a kitten last week

dead behind the school fence —

and he had bugs and maggots all crawling

out of his ear into his eye —

white, tiny, eating him from the inside.

When I die, Paloma, put me in a box

and burn me in a fire like I seen on Channel 13 —

then take all my smoke and dirt,

all the small handfuls of me,

and climb the Empire State, Paloma —

climb it and throw me in the wind

so I can fly like those pigeons

who black the sky with their wings

Alma’s Voice

She’s a keeper, I told

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