Saturday, August 15, 2009

Playground


When his challenge wafted, silence followed.
The ring of boys gathered. . .tightened -
Nuns stood near, habits flapping
Screeching, watching, but not closing in –
And his blond bangs hung over the right eye-
One vein in his neck pulsed
As he called me ‘little girl’.

On that day I found a way out,
Starting with a tingle behind my ears,
Then the raised pitch of my jumbled words -
(Small mice from the back of my throat)
Then came the slow fusion of steam, his and mine
Building in the space between him and me.
When he lunged, I closed my eyes. . .and
He passed through me.

Quiet, quiet, not a single word.
I opened my eyes and found I was standing, but gone . . .
On the playground, a belt,
My black pants, and white shirt remained.
No one spoke to me and none approached . .
To have disappeared in the dust of that moment -
Leaving the imprints of my feet
Just there in front of me -
Just there behind.

August 15, 2009