Civility

Civility–died on June 24, 2009, at the

age of 68. Murdered by a stroke whose

paintings were recently featured in a

museum, two square canvases painted

white, black scissors in the middle of

each, open, pointing at each other. After

my father’s stroke, my mother no longer

spoke in full sentences. Fragments

of codfish, the language of savages,

each syllable a mechanical dart from

her mouth to my father's holes. Maybe

this is what happens when language

fails, a last breath inward but no breath

outward. A state of holding one’s

breath forever but not dying. When her

lungs began their failing, she could still

say you but not thank. You don't know

what it’s like, she said when I told her

to stop yelling at my father. She was

right. When language leaves, all you

have left is tone, all you have left are

smoke signals. I didn't know she was

using her own body as wood.