“Wonder Twin powers activate,”
I whispered, and then I yelled,
I screamed, over and over, but
Zan could no longer hear me.
We didn’t know we could die.
It had never happened before.
The doctors never knew what
it was, exactly: a heart attack,
a stroke, or just some fatal
mismatch between our bodies
and Earth. None of them came,
the Super Friends, and Gleek
had long since died, of mange
and fatty liver, neither of which
we could cure with any form
of water or animal. I’m alone
now. My powers were never
all that great, to be honest,
and now they’re good for
nothing. Without Zan, I am
only half here, only half alive.
I own a comic book store. I grew
out my hair, but most days,
I pull it back to show my ears.
I don’t know if anyone notices,
but no one ever says, “Jayna,
is that you?” I never hear my
name at all anymore, or our
signature phrase. No one ever
liked us much, anyway; Zan and I
aren’t real heroes, were invented
only for the cartoon, people say,
as if any of us can help the way
we were born. Sometimes I talk
to Zan when I’m lonely and when
there are no customers. I invent
a problem, other than this one
that can never be solved. I call
out a form: “Polar bear!” I can
hear him shout his: “Iceberg!”
But I know it’s just my mind—
and the door of the shop,
rattling in its frame. Even if he
could speak to me, somehow,
it would still be worthless,
I would still be powerless,
not able to activate myself
until he and I can touch.
NaPoWriMo, Day 14 prompt: Write in the persona of a superhero or supervillain.