Mamie says the family was cursed.
That she’d been cursed and that those before
her and those after her were cursed too. 

She says this as she rearranges the jade
animals on the mantelpiece and points
to the empty space where the snake
will go once she finds the right one.

She looks at me, because my sign is the snake,
and she asks with her marmalade voice
if I know how lucky I am to be in this life—
she believes the skies have made an exception with me. 

I tell her I do know because I was taught
to be a great liar as a child. Names were whispered 
in hallways, aunts secretly led out the back door
as we greeted the other aunts in the front. 
Wallets, photos, memories of rekindling hidden
during family dinners, and never
would anyone mention the tragedies. 

I tell her once more I do know, and she smiles 
and hands me a jade animal, the dragon,
and tells me maybe it’s because of the year
I was born that I’ve been blessed 
with good luck. 
I don’t tell her, anybody,
about how tragedy has followed me. 

The dragon is put back in the space 
where the snake will go, and the marmalade voice
sings the lyrics to a song she probably
has made up, oh lucky you are,
lucky, lucky you are,
as I think of the jade animals
and how fitting it is
I am not there.