This poem, written in our Poetic Forms workshop, presents a #MeToo moment of my own from long ago, before we even had a term for such an experience.
Leashless,
snuffling the grass,
puppy gambols about.
Sunny weekend afternoon
at park.
Up comes
baby-faced cop,
younger even than me.
“That dog can’t be off leash,” he warns.
“Okay.”
So young,
doesn’t scare me,
though after I leash her,
shrug, walk off, he follows,
talking.
Why? What?
Wants to seem tough,
this baby policeman,
so frightens available girl,
or tries.
But fails—
I’m too naïve
to fear a policeman,
though he wants to see me scared, just
for fun.
Why not?
Girls are for that.