potato roll heart girl

i sold my heart for 
a potato roll--
broke it apart into
pieces to toss

to ducks & 
blue gills--
hungry creek water
licked clean my feet

i slathered my
heart in peanut butter
& ate alone
on a bench for
sixth grade lunch 

& Miss Brett 
asked me why i was
sitting by myself
 
i said i hadn't noticed--

i squished my heart
into little balls 
of bread to skewer  
on our fish hooks--

dropped the line into
the stream

my father taught me 
how keep my
finger gentle against
the string--

to listen with
my whole body
for the mouth of
a fish

he ate bits
of bread before 
casting out--

we drank rootbeer
from bottles
the way everyone should

& every now & then
we'd both say
we felt a nibble--
a tug--

neither of
us caught a fish 

neither of us
wanted to

i've been thinking
about all the times 
i was so accidentally
beautiful--

a fat ten year old
girl who thought to 
put an orchid in
her hair--

bare foot--
soil-kneed--
potato roll heart girl 

peeling herself 
apart 
for a fish she hasn't
met yet--

a girl in flat
black shoes--
cutting
her hair to make
a bird's nest

dropping
maple whirligigs
from her window 

she flies in a downward
motion--

she eats lunch alone--

her father fishes 
beside her
& neither of them
catch 
a thing