After Swing, by Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess.
The nation's pulse can be found in Charles Mingus's fingers walking on an upright bass. There's so much I want to say to you, so much I can't find words for. Have you ever heard Coltrane run up and down a scale, then deconstruct every rule you thought you knew? You're right in front of me, but I can't reach you– my hands trapped in my pockets, my throat dry as August sun.
Each section is based on the Oxford English Dictionary’s word of the day from December, 2022.
I. carbonado, n.
Um, hello? I hope this gets to you at all. I know I haven’t sent anything in a while. I want to explain. And yes, I’ll get to the mark on my face.
II. finger trap, n.
I need to start at the beginning. You must have known I needed to leave. Whenever I had tried running, something tethered me — feet in quicksand. I didn’t know I’d actually break away. I didn’t know I wouldn’t be able to get back. I’m sorry.
III. amor, n.
I guess it was just that— Dad always loved you more. You had basketball trophies, positive comments on your report cards. He always said he never had to worry about you. I had shit; I had to earn his love. Sometimes, I thought I had it, but it would fade away like the doppler effect of a siren. That’s why I did all this: I had to aim so high, he’d be forced to see me.
IV. dunning-kruger, n.
I thought I had it— I thought I had it— I thought I had it under control. I swear.
V. eustress, n.
I knew what I signed up for— I was going to be in the first group of people to terraform Mars. I had the degrees, the years of research. My name was announced on cable news. I was a leader in our shuttle. People listened to me, asked me for guidance. I couldn’t get enough.
VI. palustrine, adj.
It was like when we were kids, back at the lake, catching newts in a plastic bucket. I always needed to catch more than you, staying out after the fireflies showed up.
VII. perfectibilist, n.
It was arrogant to think we could do better than this. It was arrogant to think we could start over. It was arrogant to think there was nothing here before us.
VIII. soz, adj.
I’m sorry all this is coming to you in pieces. I had to reconfigure our transmitter with spare parts of our landing rig.
IX. carnyx, n.
I took the controls in our final descent, convinced I should do it, only I could do it. I missed a switch, a small mistake, enough to damage the hull. An alarm echoed through the ship until someone else repaired the necessary parts.
X. bambi, int. and adv.
The repairs set us back several hours. When it was safe and I was finally allowed out of the ship, I stood on red earth, saw maroon mountains meet black sky, an overwhelming array of stars around a blue dot where I knew you all were.
XI. rantipole, n.
They stopped talking to me, stopped asking me questions. I could see hastily-constructed walls flash across their faces when they saw me in the hall. I offered to help; they said they had it under control.
XII. boykie, n.
This keeps happening. I always get in my own way. I go too far into the water, lose my balance in the silt. Why were my successes never enough? I couldn't just pass my tests, I had to be better than all my classmates. I couldn't just go to Mars, I had to lead the people who went to Mars.
XIII. yampy, adj.
Dad was right. You are the better son. You wouldn't have put the lives of your crewmates in jeopardy to serve your ego. He never made you attend your parent-teacher conferences. I had to sit there while he voiced every disappoint, while each teacher reached for any solution.
XIV. bretheling, n.
I joined the survey team to earn the crew's respect back. It involved walking alone, away from their bitter eyes. In addition to creating a map of the surrounding area, we were looking for somewhere to build our base. That's when I found the cave.
XV. ballyhoo, n.
I updated the map, sent an alert to the leadership team. They called me to the conference room, where they sat around a long table, cluttered with annotated reports and blueprints. I stood before them, detailed the cave's location; its approximate volume; how much time, effort, material it would take to build a sustainable base. I- I emphasized its safety.
XVI. devil’s coach-horse, n.
There were so many things we- I didn't know: the actual depth of the cave, the small holes within its walls, the boring insects who created them.
XVII. sambaza, v.
Our ship was modular, created to be dismantled, room by room, once a long-term location was found. I assisted groups of people pack, travel, and reconfigure their rooms in the cave. They thanked me for my help, my discovery, made eye contact with me again.
XVIII. dreidel, n.
We had a feast once everyone was housed in the cave, most of the landing rig left as a monument in the red desert for where our settlement began. People laughed, ate, played games. They were so happy. It would be the last time that feeling was shared.
XIX. carboy, n.
The next morning, Hisashi, our agriculturist, lead his team to establish micro- and macrocrops within and outside the cave. He asked for my help surveying the land, showed me all the tubes and bottles for his complex compost system and his set up for brewing beer.
XX. hagwon, n.
Many people invited me to help them, learn their roles. I was accepted again, fully. I was seen as a leader again. I was learning so much. Things were going so well.
XXI. rinky-dink, n.
So, you should be able to see the wall behind me. If it's not in focus, just know that the shelves have fallen over, the posters and pictures ripped. You can actually see on this shelf panel, the holes from the insects that live here. It fell apart slowly. An air leak in one of the rooms deepest in. Patch work covered it, we moved on. Then more leaks, more patchwork, until Gloriana died in her sleep.
XXII. mondialization, n.
Gloriana was the lead of the communication team. They were constructing the transmitter to report our progress back to Earth. Our first report, as you well know, was her death, no explanation or cause.
XXIII. lip-sync, v.
There was debate about whether to share that information right away. There was debate about whether to carry on like nothing happened. For days, we cosplayed professionalism: did the tasks on the docket, said words with no real meaning.
XXIV. zilch, v.
They left no one. There's no one left. I examined Gloriana's body, her room, to look for clues. Day by day, there was less of her, not natural decay, chunks bitten off her limbs.
XXV. christmas, v.
On Earth, I think it was Christmas when I made that realization. I wrote a report, took some pictures, presented my findings to the leadership team. Two of them were absent. We assumed they were on an assignment or were recording messages to send to their families for the holidays. We were wrong.
XXVI. hanukkiah, n.
The next day, the lights went out. Emergency flashlights under our cots lead us through the hallways. As we approached the power sector, there was a whirring sound, like an engine low on oil. When the door opened, our flashlights were whipped out of our hands by a gust of wind escaping through a large hole in the wall. Shards of Tenzin's sweater caught on its rim, their severed hand on the emergency shut-off lever.
XXVII. chindogu, n.
It all went fast then; panic has a way of exacerbating things. We huddled together, surrounded by machines that were utterly useless then. Gathered in one of the central modules, we concentrated our food, water, spacesuits, smuggled weapons and ad hoc ones.
XXVIII. bak kut teh, n.
Hisashi set out on his own, knife in hand, to find a specimen to examine, develop a strategy for attack. He returned dangling a beetle the size of a football by its antennae. It oozed a viscous blood, shade of mulberry. After some poking, prodding, he suggested someone should take a bite to see if its edible in case our food supply runs low. I volunteered. It all felt like my fault. It was the least I could do. As my teeth sank into its flesh, the floor rumbled, erupted.
XXIX. mugwamp, n. and adj.
A swarm of them fell like hailstones, bounced like rubber bullets, sank teeth and pincers into whatever they found. We scattered, ran for the exit, but there stood the largest of them, the size of a loveseat, shrapnel lodged in its exoskeleton, human blood in its teeth. Hisashi and I charged with sharpened table legs, hoping to distract it away from the doorway while others fled to safety. They all fell to the swarm, Hisashi fell when a pincer stabbed his stomach. Sharp pincers, legs scraped my face as I escaped alone, the captain of a solo-mission. I ran to the communications room, this room right here, through a drafty hallway, this room, the last lung to hold air.
XXX. dear john, n.
You’re going to learn about this through an official communication someday soon. I typed it up and sent it to NASA soon as I caught my breath. But, I needed you to hear it from me. I needed you to know I tried. I needed you to see my face one last time, know we fought back. I needed you to know no one else should come here.
XXXI. mukbang, n.
I can hear them now in the walls. They’re going to get in any minute now. I’m not going to make it back home. So, I just want you to know I lo-
a body on the floor a pool of blood on the carpet spatter across the frame of a picture someone in a robe with a diploma a chair in the corner under a pile of shirts and jeans spatter across an unkempt bed grey comforter with teal bedsheets a dresser messy with articles and pens necklaces and earrings spatter across a full-length mirror the post-it note affirmations along its edge a body on the floor under a thin white sheet
You get to work early, pull up into the school’s empty parking lot. Three street lamps shine their pale glow onto dark asphalt. The sun hides behind some blue-black clouds behind an oft-forgotten portable. Your car eases into the same spot you always park in: five east of the planter with the sword ferns. Its door makes a soft sound as you open it; it sounds like how you feel when you stretch your quad after a jog. You walk across the lot, travel mug of coffee in hand. Crow caws echo off the brick facade of the school, a faint twee from a tree behind you. You stop, stand in the middle of the asphalt sea. Late October. It’s cold— not heavy-jacket cold, but hug-your-ribs cold. After a minute or so, you start walking again. You get out your key, slip it in the lock like a dagger into your victim’s back. You think about how improbable it would have been to actually pass the stealth check. You smile, shake your head, go inside.
the girl who lives in your mom’s house cries inside the bedroom walls when she thinks no one else is there. the girl who lives in your mom’s house tosses and turns at night, awoken by the slightest sound in the dark. the girl who lives in your mom’s house laughs at jokes she’s too young for but was forced to understand anyway. the girl who lives in your mom’s house stares into the bathroom mirror, not recognizing who she sees. the girl who lives in your mom’s house walks from room to room looking for you.
wake up to bleary shadows. drag a mattress across the bedroom. wedge it through the threshold. lay it down on the kitchen floor while coffee brews. move to the couch when it’s ready. tell myself to stay awake. the mattress thrown askew at the edge of the rug. a rope leading from its corner to my ankle, layered knots my fingers can’t maneuver. take a sip. balance the mattress on my back with my backpack. fit it in the trunk of my car. close the door and walk around— the rope phases through the frame. lines blend with the headlights’ glow. the asphalt, visual white noise. turn the stereo up. stay awake. drag the mattress up two flights of stairs. hide it under my desk. nudge the corner in when coworkers come by to talk about weekend plans. hold firm as it pushes back. a river drone as I drag its edge across the parking lot. drive off without putting it in the car. it bounces on the road, thrashes in the wind. unharmed in the driveway. lean it against the coffee table while I eat dinner. scroll through twitter on my phone. a snake’s tail coils around my forearm, constricts. sigh, flick my thumb, take another bite.
rain streets under water torrent of orange leaves northerly wind broken maple branches broken power lines blue glow off the main road tremor in the sky darkened homes silent neighborhood rain
I saw a version of you on a cave tour in South Dakota. Middle-aged. Three kids, all with your red hair. A husband with a circle beard. An accent from a place you would have stayed closeted. While ascending 300 steps from our tour’s destination, you joked about not needing a Stairmaster if you just lived above a cave. I saw a version of you in a national park gift shop. Late-twenties. Round, thin-rimmed glasses. Two older people with you, maybe members of your extended family or the people who took you in. A purple dress with neon-green bats indicative of a family that let you be different. I saw a version of you at an overlook above some badlands. You were with a photographer, a graduation photoshoot. A shirt from an 80s band under a cardigan two sizes too big. A dandelion twirled between your fingers. You looked like you. You looked happy.
I lie in bed and turn my head to see your face illuminated by the forest fire outside our house. I ask if you need anything at the store, since I plan on going after work tomorrow to get some bread and apples. You blink a few times, shake your head, say you’re not sure, too tired to think, but will tell me if you think of anything. I kiss you goodnight, tell my phone to close the curtains, block the growing light from the forest fire outside our house.
You're on the edge of a plateau overlooking a valley of hoodoos dusted with remnants of yesterday's snowfall. Predawn light is faint, cold; the air shivers in short gusts of wind. In a century, the platform your feet are on will not be there, eroded by air and water down the cliff face's arches like frames of a cathedral's stained glass windows.
M. Espinosa 