Travelling Girl

April 13, 2011
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When I was a little girl, I was a nudist
My words were uninhibited
The soles of my feet were hard from the outside
My fingernails were often caked with mud
My chest was firm in its attachment to my chest bone
My legs were filmed over by peach fuzz
So was my upper lip
I loved everything
Every one
Every creature
“hate” was a word reserved for visit’s to the doctors
love was for my teachers
whom I sometimes accidentally called “mom”
love was for my dogs, the ladybugs I’d hunt and protect
love was for recess
on the playground where I was queen
and my chicken legs pushing me off the ground
my callused hands from the monkey bars
swinging me through the air
wherever I needed to go
those limbs would carry me.

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