Buried
____________________________________

Sitting in the crook of a tree I saw my first naked woman;
she was an orange leaf in summertime, blundering

around my thirteen-year old breasts, my ten-year old body.
My ass hurt in the notch of the tree. And Luce, moaning

like only a twelve-year old girl moans, shoved her tongue in
my belly button. It was then I knew how to belong

to someone else. I believe I thought of Barbie that day.
I believe I should have thought of Barbie.

I thought of my mother and father. The wedding
and make-believe children. The children & wedding

they’d planned for all their girls. The jewels
my father said were locked deep between

our child thighs in a treasure chest. And the loss
of the thousand dollars he promised his last two

virgin daughters, if only we’d swallow the key.

From South of Here by Lydia Melvin

New Issues Poetry & Prose, Western Michigan University, Dept. of English,
1903 W. Michigan Ave., Kalamazoo, MI 49008-5331

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