"Porcelain" - Eric Beeny
A strand of Rosa’s hair like a crack in porcelain. Merrill puts his glasses on. He realizes he hasn’t worn them all day. He wonders what he’s been looking at that seemed so clear. Could it have been everything?
Snow is a thing that happens in the world. Death is a thing that happens. Waking is a thing. Snow falling on tombstones. Lots of other things happen in the world. There are books. There are children. There is music.
Rosa is sitting down. In a moment, she will stand up. When she stands up she will become a different person. The blood in her body will behave differently, making her feel differently. Rosa will feel differently, and that will make her act differently. She will stand. She will be standing. Rosa stands up. She is standing. She has changed.
Rosa has become the invisible body in the shape of Rosa waiting there for Rosa to enter Rosa. This is not determinism. This is potential. Change is a thing that happens in the world. So what. Rosa needs to sit down. She has the urge to grow her hair immediately.
Rosa will sit down and grow her hair immediately. This will happen. She wants to feel loved. She knows love happens. It might not be real, but it happens. She’s seen it. Rosa wants to feel what she’s seen.
Rosa has seen other people. They love each other. It might not be real. She considers the possibility that the people themselves might not be real. Rosa says, “Other people maybe are not real,” and believes it a little.
Rosa feels real. She has changed. She has happened. She is happening. She sees herself. She has grown. Rosa is hair—immediately. Not real, like other people she’s seen who love.
Rosa has the urge to love immediately. She is a child. She is awake. She is awake, and that is different. Rosa will look out the window. Snow.
Snow is a thing that happens in the world. Water, pretending to be a shape—a different shape each time. It might not be real, but it happens.
Rosa feels it.
Look, a crack in the window.
Rosa’s hair, growing.
Porcelain.
So many people die. More than all the people alive now have died at one time or another in their lives. Rosa says, “What does it mean to be alive.”
“It means giving up on death,” Merrill says.
Rosa says, “Show me how.”
“Take my hand and we will forget how to die,” Merrill says.
A long time ago we were born. That’s not true. We’re here now. I know you think so, too, and that’s why we’re not being born right now, and the truth is we think we know there is more to being born and why this is not evidence of us being here now because there is no why.
There is no now.
There is only us and what we’ve done, and what we’ve done is give up on death which means we have refused to be born.
Rosa says, “There is no born.”
“No,” Merrill says. “That’s why we’re here.”
And Merrill touches Rosa’s hair.
Porcelain.
Eric Beeny (b. 1981) is the author of THE DYING BLOOM (Pangur Ban Party, 2009), SNOWING FIREFLIES (Folded Word Press, 2010), OF CREATURES (Gold Wake Press, 2010), MILK LIKE A MELTED GHOST (Thumbscrews Press, 2011), PSEUDO-MASOCHISM (Anonymosity Press, 2011), HOW MUCH THE JAW WEIGHS (Anonymosity Press, 2011), and some other things. He blogs at Dead End on Progressive Ave. (http://ericbeeny.blogspot.com).
Snow is a thing that happens in the world. Death is a thing that happens. Waking is a thing. Snow falling on tombstones. Lots of other things happen in the world. There are books. There are children. There is music.
Rosa is sitting down. In a moment, she will stand up. When she stands up she will become a different person. The blood in her body will behave differently, making her feel differently. Rosa will feel differently, and that will make her act differently. She will stand. She will be standing. Rosa stands up. She is standing. She has changed.
Rosa has become the invisible body in the shape of Rosa waiting there for Rosa to enter Rosa. This is not determinism. This is potential. Change is a thing that happens in the world. So what. Rosa needs to sit down. She has the urge to grow her hair immediately.
Rosa will sit down and grow her hair immediately. This will happen. She wants to feel loved. She knows love happens. It might not be real, but it happens. She’s seen it. Rosa wants to feel what she’s seen.
Rosa has seen other people. They love each other. It might not be real. She considers the possibility that the people themselves might not be real. Rosa says, “Other people maybe are not real,” and believes it a little.
Rosa feels real. She has changed. She has happened. She is happening. She sees herself. She has grown. Rosa is hair—immediately. Not real, like other people she’s seen who love.
Rosa has the urge to love immediately. She is a child. She is awake. She is awake, and that is different. Rosa will look out the window. Snow.
Snow is a thing that happens in the world. Water, pretending to be a shape—a different shape each time. It might not be real, but it happens.
Rosa feels it.
Look, a crack in the window.
Rosa’s hair, growing.
Porcelain.
So many people die. More than all the people alive now have died at one time or another in their lives. Rosa says, “What does it mean to be alive.”
“It means giving up on death,” Merrill says.
Rosa says, “Show me how.”
“Take my hand and we will forget how to die,” Merrill says.
A long time ago we were born. That’s not true. We’re here now. I know you think so, too, and that’s why we’re not being born right now, and the truth is we think we know there is more to being born and why this is not evidence of us being here now because there is no why.
There is no now.
There is only us and what we’ve done, and what we’ve done is give up on death which means we have refused to be born.
Rosa says, “There is no born.”
“No,” Merrill says. “That’s why we’re here.”
And Merrill touches Rosa’s hair.
Porcelain.
Eric Beeny (b. 1981) is the author of THE DYING BLOOM (Pangur Ban Party, 2009), SNOWING FIREFLIES (Folded Word Press, 2010), OF CREATURES (Gold Wake Press, 2010), MILK LIKE A MELTED GHOST (Thumbscrews Press, 2011), PSEUDO-MASOCHISM (Anonymosity Press, 2011), HOW MUCH THE JAW WEIGHS (Anonymosity Press, 2011), and some other things. He blogs at Dead End on Progressive Ave. (http://ericbeeny.blogspot.com).
