"Crawfish" by Charity Mack

At a crawfish boil I cannot fully make peace With myself because I have frequent flashbacks Of spring break in April of 2005 when I waited for my big Sister Tori in that red and yellow sunset For 3 days straight Each day, Tori treated her siblings to Crawfish as if it were the Last Supper. On that last evening I observed her as she Pranced into the kitchen like a toddler Receiving an Easter basket full of slightly Melted candy except she had this heavy Burden buried beneath the bulging blue, black Bags sagging under her dark desperate eyes Her hands…clenched around the Tony’s Seafood Brown paper bag like claws securing 10 pounds Of secrets…she snapped at us… for being too greedy But I was just hungry for her attention because I sensed that…something was wrong when I caught Her eyes… fixed in bewilderment as if someone Had dumped her into a pot of boiling water Surfacing the beginning of an awakening. And I could never dream of the day that someone Could make the phrase “You are what you eat” Rapidly resurrect in front of my own eyes I often wonder did Tori ever notice that she Was being carefully seasoned with: a sprinkle of Alcohol to fit in, a dash of Kush to cushion her Anxiety, a hint of crack… in her self-respect A pinch of pills to heal the symptoms of neglect After feeling rejected by the mixture of fists Stirring into her beautiful 23 year old face as Her drug dealing boyfriend Mark would simultaneously Beat her until she was too blind to find a way out Of her internal afflictions. See Tori… was only hard…on the outside Yet it was hell to watch Tori boiling in that sterling Silver pot of bipolar schizophrenia while Grappling on to the thin rim of Reality then drowning, slowly slipping away in Her own imagination. Tori submerged in multiple Episodes. Her eyes would roll back rebelling against It’s sockets as she CURSED and SCREAMED at People who ceased to exist in that hissing heat of a Moment while blubbering and regurgitating between Confessions to our mother who was wearily Praying for her scorched and tortured soul Tori’s blood boiled enough to the point where she Threatened to kill everyone in the house but it didn’t Matter because it had already pained us to watch Tori involuntarily simmering in violence while Destroying herself and it scared me because in the Steam of her madness she identified me as a cymbal Chiming to momentarily cease the voices snapping in Her head. She kept repeating the nickname that she gave Me until she reached recognition of reality. She kept Screaming “COME HERE MY CARE BEAR” like the Colorful teddy bears that she would hold on to When she could not bear to hold on… I was a symbol Of an innocent memory she can’t claw her way Back into And I remember my big sister Tori carrying dreams to Conquer that were pinched by past hurt, pulled by poor Decisions, then peeled by peers who praised and rejoiced In her iniquities. Then all of Tori’s desire to dream was Sucked out of her. She was left hollow in her hallucinations And after those 3 days of being treated to THIS devastation… I get disgusted every time I see crawfish because I am reminded Of what Tori became during those dreadful spring days. A beautiful crustacean…drowning…in her past mistakes… Resurrecting as another crawfish on life’s picnic table Just…Ready to be devoured My Tori