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Confession

Compelled to reach inside

the Barbie backpack on my best friend’s

coffee table.  Her mother

will return any second, but I need

beef jerky to get me through sixth

grade and my hand is sliding and

pulling and I’m staring at forbidden fruit,

green in my hand.  I hear footsteps, zip

my own pack, but she sees, and she sees

and she wants to see what I’m hiding.

She knows, she takes my bag,

glares beneath sharp black brows,  

  while I stand rooted, unable to

turn my flaming cheeks as she holds before me

two dollars for my soul.

            -Ashley Rae Curran