Writing-Defogging Blog


Thursday, June 9th, 2016

Because I was a girl before Title 9
When I crashed to the floor playing volleyball in tenth grade
And sprained my right ankle and nobody
Took me to the ER or got me crutches
I hopped on my left foot
After my teacher, Jeffrey Singer, who I had a crush on
In spite of his Binaca breath
Drove me home in his little red sports car
From school and I loved being that close to him,
My ankle never got right again
And would swell up like a honeydew in the humidity
Until Lorraine Saraga, the chiropractor who moved
Up to her land in Northwestern Pennsylvania without plumbing
With her boyfriend who fell off a ladder and smashed up his brain
Pressed the scar tissue out of me
And it screaming hurt
Still, the pain started growing up my leg like a Mexican sunflower
(the Latin name I don’t remember
even though Bill reminds me every spring)
then my knee started going bad
Step by step so I couldn’t run
And then I started falling, down the stairs, even,
Knocking out my front two teeth and other hard things
So now that whole right side of my ambulation
Sucks bricks
And I wish I were younger
Not so much because my body would be more resilient
Or so far, unmarred,
But I would have aged right in time for Title 9.

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