2nd poem of National Poetry Writing Month
I had to get changed next to the lanky, swim-team teenage girls at the pool.
I had left my things in a locker where they stood.
I did not want to get too close to them,
like a quivering chicken, next to a pair of sly foxes.
Their confidence scared me, their potential still fresh, maybe they will swim
at university, a scholarship, the up-coming regionals.
I am just a voluptuous 30 year old woman, trying to get some exercise.
They gossiped about the other girls in their class, the fat ones, the others that don’t look good in yellow.
I wanted to turn from their eyes,
they would also think something was
about my hips too, just like poor Jennifer’s.
I wanted to tell them to be nicer, to stop the hate ball from rolling, from spiking everyone with poison in its path,
but instead I just silently hoped that someday they would learn.
It wasn’t my place.
I was afraid, and shaking with dampness.