After the race my teammates
kicked the boys off the bus
& into the downpour
blocked the windows
with their sweatshirts
peeled the wet clothes
from my skin, each inch
matted-down
disobedient, hair plastered
to my brown legs.
It took two hungry girls
to remove the spandex
from my paling thighs
their blonde hair a cascade
from heaven, water droplets falling
from their roots, stinging
my body. The ports tore
off my shirt & sports bra
my nipples lighthouses
in a swollen ocean, a trail
of dark hair running up
my belly. My whole boat
witness to my small naked frame
a gulf of shiver on the bus.
& their own hairless legs
disappearing into their shorts
skin ripe as peaches, reaching
for my brown body. These girls
who I had stolen glances at
while we changed & wished
I could look like. My locker
room crew. My 5am practice
girls. My lean over the starboard
side so she could pee off the rigor
girls. My two mile run after
eating Annie’s mac-n-cheese girls.
They took turns rubbing life
back into my bones
offered clothes off their own
backs to keep me from shaking.
My girls, sandwiching me
in their heat until my joints
flowered, until the warmth
budded through my blood.
What more could I ask
than a team willing to undress
their captain, too cold
& rain-glittered to do it alone?