Johnny, Who Laughed

In the final hour of my innocence, I watched the saltwater
lick the sand in the blazing heat of the day. That was before

Johnny arrived, his smile a Devil’s, like a serrated knife
between his lips. He slashed his way to me with his razor

leer through laughing children who crumpled like leaves
into ashes in his wake, bleeding from their necks. At my feet

in the sand lay a gun, like a gift, and when I held it, I understood
that I was chosen. But when I raised that cold, cold metal up

to his white teeth, only smoke poured forth, and Johnny laughed.
He named me one of his and swept me to refuge in the abandoned

church where the morning light shone green. Each day, he lay
the knife at my side and unlocked my cage. We were two angels

of death then, Johnny and me. Today we would board a school bus
full of children, tomorrow slink into the suburbs at twilight or obliterate

a city street if Johnny felt bold. We always left one standing, one
who inevitably chose to become like me. The other choice was to die,

and we were afraid. We could wield another death by the handle
or we could let ours eat us from within. Johnny was the only one

who did not fear his death, and when we asked him why he chose
the knife over the darkness, Johnny just laughed and laughed.

In winter, Johnny held me under the orchard trees, feeding me poison
apples like a serpentine lover, promising that he would permit me to live

with their forbidden taste on my tongue. In summer, Johnny dragged me
to the seafloor, where we danced a watery waltz on the limestone

with the ghosts. I remembered them from my old dreams, and when I cried
to them to be as I once knew, Johnny laughed and laughed and laughed.

And when my fear at last became too much to bear, I fled to a house
belonging to strangers and hid under the bed like a child. They found me,

shaking and silent, but the strangers knew my name and granted my plea
for salvation. Away we flew, their wings beneath mine, our path jagged

across the world because the places where he could not find me
were always changing. But Johnny’s laugh followed me all through.

In the stink of the swamps, in the fire of the sunset, in every crack
on every orchard tree, Johnny laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.

When I fell screaming from the sky, they said that I was mad and left
me all alone. Fear was a pointed heart in my throat as the prayer poured

then from my lips and the corners of my eyes: Let it be true, O God!
O God, O God, let me be mad!