amphibi.us

Remember that school trip
out west?
no alcohol,
no drugs,
gender separated hotel rooms?
I watched our mentor,
as I always did?

Well,
he checked your luggage first
in the flowered bag.

I remembered
your calorie journal
and your therapy book
and your secrets that you’d hidden
in your
too
big
jeans.

I hoped he wouldn’t see
those dark things.

I hoped he would skim a
layer of underwear
and feel intrusive.

I hoped and prayed
he hadn’t noticed your bones,

or your limp hanging skin,
or your unreasonable habit of
eating
with
your
fingers.

I prayed this all – me!
with no sense of god.

I hoped you had packed god
somewhere
in your floral trunk.
(under all the xtra smalls)

I tried to know you had.
I hoped and prayed you had.

© Victoria Randall, 2012