Gabriel Oladipo

There’s a Hole That Pierces Right Through Me

HEALING and a phone number

            Sharpied on a train wall. That was the source

of Esther’s grand solution. 11 pm, April turns
           
this fact over at her front desk job, North Central Hospital.

Even in winter the building is cold. She has her black coat on

and Peanut M&M’s from the vending machine.

In her own defense Esther only said the handwriting

was too pure to be a murderer’s.

It was admittedly gentle work. April isn’t calling

that number again. It’s stuck in her head,

that night but also the voice, its words
           
about dreams that give a person strength,

about strength that leads to future dreams.

There’d been a dog barking.

Sounding small. April’s dreams have

so far involved drowning,

a jagged coast, an ocean
           
at times like a mirror,

a total heat, a choked

forest, wind.

(7)

The first thing April feels when she steps

into the room is the heat,

as if three space heaters run at the same time.

They might be. The room is packed with garbage

and five fat identical cats laying all around,

all near the old woman sunk into a large

reclining chair set directly across

from the door. April can hear the TV clearer

now that she’s in the same room as it. What April can’t see

is a chair for her to sit in so she stands.

She is very conscious of her black coat

and the room’s heat, her hand in her pocket.

You’ve brought something. the woman says,

in the same voice. From her backpack April pulls

a small black pouch given to her by Esther.

She turns it over above the table and rubies rain down.

The woman picks one up slowly like her arm

might shatter and rubs her thumb all along its edges.

In her lap is a small rectangle wrapped in brown paper.

She unfolds it, revealing, the size of a playing card, an image

of a figure with long hair carved into something that looks cold

like metal and fragile like glass. At the bottom

an inscription, also carved, in small letters, TRANCE.

This is what Esther has sent her to get.

Gripping the knife in her pocket, April steps closer

to look closer. The woman makes a sharp gasp

that then slides into a low, deep moan, and freezes

April in her tracks. April sees the woman

as if for the first time, her hole eyes.

Whatever you plan to do, do it quickly.

After all, it will only hurt you in the end.

April points the knife at the woman without conviction.

She slowly gathers up the rubies, then the card,

and walks out of the room.

The cats watch.

(9)

Three days left until their flight. Esther told April

not to let the being out of her sight,

so she’s sat in the living room with it for hours,

though its aura has grown no less awful,

summoning a strength of will she didn’t know she had.

She tries to pass the time like she usually did,

watching YouTube clips, watching movies,

but she can’t ignore how the witch has grown fuller,

not quite so thin, and each time she catches

a glimpse of its eyes, she sees a few points of white,

small as snowflakes

but there nonetheless. She’s watching a mukbang,

a video of a man eating KFC fried chicken

and chicken sandwiches and popcorn chicken

and mac & cheese. Esther is away

and she wants to feel less alone.

I’ll kill you. The voice appears

in April’s head more clearly than her own.

I’ll devour you, I’ll leave nothing.

The being hasn’t moved at all,

its darkest eyes still stare

without a fixed point, but April knows

where this voice is coming from.