The bathroom was brutal that afternoon. She couldn’t see
past the the small group of girls in front of her,
their snarling flapping mouths.
Heavy swinging doors blocked by a small crowd
of lanky twelve-year-old selves. She pressed herself
back hard against the dank
flatgreen wall, flooded by their
furnace tongues, their pungent eyes.
“Did you start yet?
Did you start your period yet?”
The question didn’t compute somehow.
The churning, the undertow, the growling
teeth did not fit the words. She couldn’t
make sense of it – the fierce sounds
bustling her into a smaller tighter corner of her body.
The shock question hissing at her.
The dull lineoleum floor impenetrable, feebling her.
Should they be so teethy about this? So restless,
in clanking chain, so foamy in their gather?
Unable to interpret,
to see what they required,
she littled as far from their seeping force
as clammy walls allowed.
Chisled by their laser lips, her mind
damping down, laming itself, closing off,
she burrowed in wide-eyed busted open slappidy
Chowed down on it,
incorporated the ragged minutes,
undulated her world view.
Absorbed the deranged mouths dumbly,