i wasn't built for this.
I was knit together in Alabama with fibers
from cotton quilts and
fluffy layers from
canned biscuits.
my DNA is all barefeet-
and-don't-step-on-a bee.
later in South Carolina, i jogged
right through the summer 100s,
not knowing until adulthood that
the white ring around my mouth
was an indication of heat stroke.
i thought it was just what happened
to redheads.
and i never once complained about
the heat.
so today, as it moves in,
this cold feels like a personal
attack--
for each heart i broke or sprained,
for every ice cube i kicked under
the fridge instead of leaning down
to pick up,
for every stitch of clean laundry my mother
washed and ironed that i tossed into
the basket so i wouldn't have to rehang it--
this is my penance.
as each cold wisp of air snakes its way
up my sleeves and up the ankle of my
silly cuffed "boyfriend jeans,"
i will remember that sweet boy with whom
i broke the prom date to go with the less sweet boy
who didn't ask early enough.
and each time i hide in the bathroom today
at the library to blast the hand dryer
up the back of my cropped sweater (why
in godsname is every thing i own cropped?)
i shall repent to that sweet boy's mother.