Helen on how her daughter reacted after she returned from Troy

Kristen Brida

She saw me & asked if she could call me mom, mommy or Helen. She asked if she could hug me
& before I could answer she wrapped her arms around me & I felt

more terrarium than mother. My daughter turned my hands over saw the hinge of skin & asked me
if I was related to Jesus & all I could do was shrug.

My daughter’s mouth was emptier than I remembered, but my husband told me this was normal w/
girls her age. Except, my daughter cupped out her hands & her teeth gathered there like
communion/petals after summer—I jump back & forth between similes. My daughter would sit on
the porch swing I would look out the window, see her pour.

At night, she’d gather her teeth on the nightstand the white of them permeated the black. I snuck in
to inspect the teeth for blood but they were so white I could not directly look at them, so I went
downstairs to retreat in the black.

The next morning my daughter’s mouth was full again. I saw her step out for the bus & in the
sunlight I could see through her skin like contact paper or smoke. I saw her body bloodless mostly
colorless liver ribs stomach full of toast & eggs. I could see everything but her heart, which was
covered by a blue spider instead.