GRAVEL
By S. N. Rodriguez
I remember the laughter
how everyone walked past me
like currents around a stone.
Words barred behind clenched teeth
as I picked out the gravel
from my bloodied knees.
I remember staring at you,
your white teeth glistening
as you looked down at me and said
Spic.
Do you remember?
I walked home, slowly, but I got there.
Blood dripping down my pale legs
soaking into cotton socks under the summer sun.
My skinned knees pressing together like
accordions then stretching wide with each step
beads of sweat burning the raw, pink skin
underneath.
