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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