by Karyna McGlynn
The cat ambles in and out of frame.
Someone picks up the camera, sets it down;
the frame jogs twice. Then they’re laughing.
They’ve just discovered: my party was a silent movie
but who’s to blame for forgetting to check the volume?
Briefly, they consider calling me back:
rewrap the presents, relight the candles.
No, it’s just too silly and I’m not a good enough actress.
They break into the Jack Daniels
he lies about his age more than once, speaks in Cajun French,
shows off his muscles, accuses my mother
of buying him presents that are really for her.
Shot of the wok, shot of the blender, they get drunk.
My voice is faint off-camera: Coke! Coke!
My mother slurs back: Not now, I’m a film director!
He pretends to cook a roux,
puts a frozen egg-roll in his pants pocket.
My mother goes ooooohhh, baby
but in the end, it’s my fault-
my incessant demand for cola cuts things short
just as they begin to get interesting.
My mother’s hand descends over the camera lens,
a slow-mo jellyfish. He grabs it by the wrist-
it curls up like something stunned.
No, he says, not like that.
“Post 11th Birthday: He Leaves the Camera Rolling” is from I Have to Go Back to 1994 and Kill a Girl by Karyna McGlynn, published by Sarabande Books, Inc. © 2009 by Karyna McGlynn. Reprinted by permission of Sarabande Books and the author.
*Photo courtesy partybooper_rob.