Box

Posted on Sep 17, 2014 | Comments Off on Box

She wants to go out slanted
with her feet in leaves.
She looks through her stringy hair
at the children. She has no idea
how old she looks.
She feels young, nothing changed.
She doesn’t want them to bring apples
or cute drawings. She wants to box
with them. She lifts her fist
to challenge them. And one fights back.
‘Okay Nana.’ He has one hand up
to protect his chin, the other
a balled fist. ‘Ready?’
 ‘Yep.’ She takes her stance.
Harder when you’re sitting down.
He has a height advantage but not much.
He’s nine, or is he ten, she’s not sure now.
He jabs a fist, she fends it off
with hers, then jabs right back
and lightly clips his cheek.
‘You win.’ He doesn’t hug her,
he rubs his hand roughly through her hair.
 He’s the one. He’ll make sure
she goes out slanted, feet in leaves
not stretched out straight and boxed.

Adrienne Jansen