By Christa Fairbrother
“Which is yours?”
I narrowed my eyes,
glanced askance at
the fifth-grade bully’s trap.
“Inny or Outy?”
Now the panic hit
I had no clue
Bambi fur/plastic target deer
in the headlights look
Coke/Pepsi
Hello Kitty/Cabbage Patch
“Neither.” I stalled.
“Your belly button.”
That’s when I knew,
I was an Inny, in all things
take my long, jagged limbs
fold them down, in, against
invert myself into a Picasso heroine
make myself smaller at this moment,
yet larger than life in the future
to cubist time travel back
into that portable classroom
whip-smart my tormentor
with her umbilicus.
Christa Fairbrother, MA, is a Florida-based writer living with chronic illnesses. She’s the author of the award-winning, Water Yoga (Singing Dragon, 2022). Her poetry has appeared in DMQ Review, The London Reader, and Unbroken among others. Connect with her: www.christafairbrotherwrites.com.
Comments