A Girl’s Weak Spot: A Poem


Ryan, his smooth head
shiny with fear, guided my foot––
right between the legs, he muttered,
moments before he crumbled
onto the slippery woodchips
and I, laughing, played ostrich with my toes
and tugged at his hand.

When will you show me
a girl’s weak spot? he asked
and once again I said tomorrow
though I wsn’t sure I’d ever found one.

So I swept droplets from the balance bars
as he chased the summit of the rain-greased slide
and fell back down.

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