Chapters from Guilt, Beans, and Broken Bones

arm

 

 

Chapters from Guilt, Beans, and Broken Bones

 

In One we met on a kindergarten playground.

The colors were primary

and so were we.

 

In Two I stuck out my foot to trip you

just to see what you would look like

as you fell.

I didn’t want to know you had broken your arm.

 

In Three I sat practicing my crude handwriting

while you were borne off by a swarm of adults

to the nurse’s office.

 

In Four you came to school in a cast

and I came in a car,

neither healed nor whole.

 

In Five we sat across from each other

pretending to count beans to learn

our numbers.

All I learned was numbness.

 

In Six the teacher said it was snack time.

She said not to eat our beans by accident,

but I wanted to.

And tried to.

Which made you laugh.

 

In Seven I gave you my animal crackers,

and you let me doodle my forgiveness on your cast,

the stick-figure story

of guilt, beans, and broken bones.

-M.M.

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