Dirty Girl

 

Dirty little girl

scabby knees, tangled curls

nervous nail biter

darting eyes don’t land

waiting for the violent hand

To strike - words to tear.

 

I needed food,

Stole, from playmates’ mothers,

Whole milk quickly poured,

From thick bottles

shaped like women

A brief cool antidote.

 

Trembling, in open fridge doors,

Wiped my lips and lied,

Waiting for the anger

To arrive.

The mothers knew

I did not want

To go home.

 

The library lady

Fed me books

Thick slabs of smooth pages

Encyclopedias - rainforest to Antarctic

Bees, butterflies, penguins,

Elephant rampages.

She gave to me

All that I could carry.

 

Kipling, Steinbeck, Poe

At close, before she locked the door,

She’d say, “Oh, here’s one more.”

She knew

I did not want

To go home.

 

Miss Welner, fifth-grade goddess

Let me stay

Put things away, pick up the room,

Bang erasers free of chalk

Clouds of dust soared aloft

Or nervousness made me cough

She listened while I talked

Leaking hurried words

I told her everything,

Made her bear my witness.

 

When my words

Choaked me more than chalk,

She watched me draw -

My father as the Minotaur,

My whole mean little life -

Then talk some more

When she had to

Lock the door.

She knew

I did not want

To go home.