She had her hair cut short
above the bulb of her spine.
She was ten years old then.
Alone in the toy aisle at Target
with a man who called her sexy.
A man who bent down
at his waist and kissed
her mouth, pink and
stale with school lunch.
Later, she held her mother’s hand
while her mother cried.
Her father took the early train home
from the city.
She would be in sixth grade next fall;
the camping trip, the training bra,
the food stained
daisy embroidered jeans
gripping her thighs
like hands.