In the Park

Lying on my stomach, on thick blades
of Park's Board grass, I am reading
the same paragraph over same paragraph over
same paragraph over

The sun beating, swatting, pushing
down on my head is ruining my concentration --
glaring irritably off my page,
piercing, poking, spitting
into my sun-weak blue eyes.

I am leaving, pushing myself up
when I hear a psst -- low "s"ed psst --
The sound before a snakebite, and I turn
to see him there on the smallest swing;
jeans undone, smiling, violently jerking.

Repulsion. Blasphemy.
Masturbator on child's swing!
I can't leave --
Ushered out by that garter snake.
He pssts again.

I will not leave -- I am a She-warrior,
I refuse. I sit up instead, giving
the view of my ass to the grass, I read
the same paragraph
same paragraph

same paragraph
He pssts. Same paragraph. Psst
Silence. Silence.
I look back -- he is there, still yanking
like a farmer with a dried up cow.

He tires finally and sadly
wilts down a dirt path.

Now I can leave.

Billie Livingston
Toronto, Ontario