SKETCH IN SNOW PRINT

Once upon a time my friend Adrian broke my growth plate
by bodyslamming me in the snow. I cut his eye
with ice, he broke my growth plate.

It was the fourth quarter of the Super Bowl, 1989.
I beat our big wood door with my left fist,
kicked my boots at my dad & sobbed

into the kerosene heater. My mom brought me
Triscuits & Ocean Spray for comfort.
I could hear the game

on the radio in the other room, some old family friends
screaming at it. Infants, I thought.
I tucked myself in.

I got a black sling & Miss Kirk, my 6th grade teacher,
gave me more attention than
all the other students combined.

I liked hearing my name on her lips.
You okay, Nathan? Nathan,
why don’t you get in front.

Your attitude is simply exemplary, Nathan.

April is a crappy month. No more sling, no more hugs
from experienced women, no more breast mushing
against my head.

That all happened in Elmira. One time at a party in Toledo
I was feeling like a nobody so I showed
some girls how my left arm was a little

longer than my right. Nobody hugged me, said my name.
Bull, some dude said. One older girl at least
squinted her stoned green eyes, but

I don’t think she ever realized what I was trying to prove.

Nathan Parker lives in Alabama with his wife, Christie, and their two children, Noah and Clara. He can be contacted at nathanjparker30(at)hotmail(dot)com.