Crooked teeth, chipmunk cheeks, all ears—your mind
is the mirror, and the mirror is the
gap you can step into, a place to hide—
Gary Nadir beneath you on the slide.
He lifts your skirt: your panties on display
as you fall through the breach, a cave of shame—
Morning toast confined in your mouth all day
[so you don’t have to swallow what you hate]
Gary Nadir stretched underneath your swing,
under your desk, behind you on the slide—
Gary Nadir follows you through the school gate—
He lifts your skirt, your panties on display.
The nurse says lice, lines wrong in the school play—
you fall through—you fall through, you fall through
a catalog of shames—
You beg your mother to wear slacks to school.
Gary N.’s rage when he raises your skirt
to uncover the shorts you snuck from home.
At recess you bolt through the trees
that surround the playground. He’s after you,
ultimately shoves you to the ground—
On your back in the pine nettles, he rips
away your shorts, even your panties with
surprising ease— and he sees, and he sees,
and he sees—
