NINA MAUCERI
MEREDITH
Meredith wore a green plaid sun dress
and a pair of purple KEDS
on the first day of the fifth grade
Her hair was tightly wound
into two ribboned pigtails
that hung uneven from her “pancake head”
She had shaved her chubby legs
for the first time that morning
and bloody tracks attested her new skill
She was the single, fattest girl
in our charming fifth grade class
and wore a bra for at least two years
Behind her turquoise glasses
were magnified brown eyes
that resembled a deer caught in headlights
Playing Truth or Dare
in the school yard that day
I had to torture one of the Weird Kids
Meredith was my target
sitting on the fence
with her index finger jammed up her nose
I pushed her from behind
and she fell unto the ground
smashing her glasses in the dirt
A single square of plaid
was blowing the breeze
ripped from Meredith’s torn skirt
Calmly she rose
not a tear in her eye
and licked the blood away from her bruised hand
She retreated from the school yard
wiping dirt from her eyes
and biting her muddy lower lip
Meredith never returned
To another day of class
And no one ever questioned her absence
Remembering what I did
To Meredith for fun
I ask myself:
Why is it so easy
for me to squash a roach
When ripping a butterfly’s
wing seems impossible?