Narrated by Val Cole

POEM:

People disappeared.
Not just people but our neighbors. All five of them. Momma, Poppa and the three kids with
thick black hair who played with our kids, wispy blonde blue-eyed, all three.

When they moved in, I remember
You were a little uneasy.
We only speak English, you said.
Our kids learned their language as fast as their kids did ours
To show them what America was like, we showed them old reruns of Mr. Rogers
They didn’t want to watch it.
They did it.

Last night, our neighbors
Disappeared.

It was so quiet for a Sunday morning, that we went over
We always went to each other’s side door
There was a note
Please take our dog
And Penny,
That was Juanita’s chicken.

I knocked and the door opened
By itself.
Entering the kitchen was like our own
The smells were familiar

Last night we were here.
We ate bisteces
And from-scratch tortillas.

I had to apologize for my kids
Who chased Penny, the chicken
Through the hall
“All the kids were in on it,”
Paloma said with a smile.
“You’re more patient than me,”
I confessed.

Diego added, “Kids be kids. It’s ok.”
I looked at you.
You didn’t say a thing.
You do that. Let me stand there alone when I am vulnerable,
Undefended.

You pulled the note down and stared at it
Solemn but helpless as usual.
And suspicious. You reminded me that you said we should not get so cozy.
We don’t know these people, not really.

My youngest screamed from the back yard
“They shot Penny!”
Peppy, the dog had already come up from the basement
And was dancing around us
Pulling on your jeans leg
Frantic.
You pushed him away,
Gave me that disgusted look.

People like our neighbors don’t shoot animals,
I said.
ICE did it
Ice-cold did it all
It dawned on me that the rumor was true and now
It is happening
They must have come late in the night
I must find ICE COLD and tell them
About our neighbors.

They pay more taxes than we do,
We eat in each other’s houses,
Our kids are best friends
The only person undocumented is
Paloma and she is due to receive citizen ship next week
She’s been working at the local Holiday Inn for twenty years.

Where did they take our neighbors?
What do we do?
What did they do?
Did they fool us all this time?

I feel myself going numb
I am becoming you. And they, them.

–Gayle Baldwin, 16 November 2024