On Winning the Coloring Contest in Second Grade

The whole idea of it makes me feel

like I’ve discovered America,

the wind at the shore,

whipping and drying the spark from my eyes,

a dull, sweet throbbing in my chest,

and every now and then,

my stomach springs to my throat.

But you tell me it would be selfish to take that pink Schwinn.

After all, I already have a purple one

exactly like Katy Clark’s,

and Brad deserves a speed bike,

don’t I think? 

I stare at the grade of the hard wood floor,

elbows to knees,

chin on the pillows of my palms,

and fashion my mouth like yours,

my eyebrows pinched

and my teeth clenched into a worried square.

But I cannot keep the corners of my mouth

from belying my concern,

they join my belly in stealing

moments of subtle spree.

This is the beginning of being a big girl

your eyes frown.

It seems like only yesterday

I could color a fire truck fuchsia and teal

and the siren would sound from the page.

But now I am planning the next time

to use the chartreuse crayon for the body

and to write the name of our town in black on the side.