there was Noella who knew i was sweet
but cared enough to bother with me
that summer when nobody died
except for boys from other schools
but not us, for which our mothers
lifted his holy name & even let us skip
some Sundays to go to the park
or be where we had no business being
talking to girls who had no interest
in us, who flocked to their new hips
dumb birds we were, nectar high
& singing all around them, preening
waves all day, white beater & our best
basketball shorts, the flyest shoes
our mamas could buy hot, line-up fresh
from someone’s porch, someone’s uncle
cutting heads round the corner cutting
eyes at the mothers of girls i pretended
to praise. i showed off for girls
but stared at my stupid, boney crew.
i knew the word for what i was
but couldn’t think it. i played football
& believed its salvation, its antidote.
when Noella n ’nem didn’t come out
& instead we turned our attention
to our wild legs, narrow arms & pigskin
i spent all day in my brothers’ arms
& wanted that to be forever—
boy after boy after boy after boy
pulling me down into the dirt.
from Prairie Schooner