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Poem

EIGHT


A deliberate surprise 
A shove from the back
while creating artwork 
in my second-grade class
Perhaps an ocean scene
A distant angry memory
of my eight-year-old 
consciousness


The broken waxy blue crayon
in my right hand
Before me the ripped orange 
construction paper and 
a scattered image


Girl bully momentarily
reigned behind me
her face encircled with
frantic spirals….
a golden mane


My neck flashed heat
and then a cold sweat
I challenged her to a fight
In the girl’s bathroom
that day


Pale turquoise tiled walls 
screamed at me 
as I entered the ring
Staring up I saw a field of wilting flowers….
wads of scrunched up soapy paper towels
hurled up at the ceiling where they clung and 
appeared as corpses threatening to fall down
on me at any moment


The pungent thick air of girl 
bodies surrounded me….
A hungry lion appeared with
open mouth ready to strike


Tightly wrapped around each other
     A blur
     A blow to my right side
     A second to my stomach


Descending to my knees
catching my breath
Rising up I landed an efforted 
blow on her left cheek


An explosion within her wild
starving eyes filled with 
superpower magnetism


     The pounce
     The strike


My body collapsed…
the blue tiles hugging me
Sounds of silence
Distant voices of teacher adults
dispersing the crowd


Inside the small stall
crumpled body crying
on the toilet seat
head on my knees
salty tears cascading
Tasting them now


With armor and shield 
bleeding …dented and broken
my heart and soul 
rejoiced

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