A Whole World
She leaned forward everyday
right before the bell rang,
ending class.
A world to see, she was pregnant
by seventeen, the usual story
and the loyal boyfriend
loyal for awhile.
Metallic yellow curls, an afternoon
in a beauty parlor in the Heights,
other girls placing their hands
on her belly. She still fawns
over the boyfriend in photographs
she once took delight in, he looks out
cardboard tough, do-rag and turntables,
behind him the unadorned geometry
of somebody’s apartment.
She’s a collector. She unfolds
and shows what is hers: the photographs,
the notes and text messages. She shows
her friends these last exchanges
from the phone she snuck
through the metal detectors on her way
into school this morning.
Modern Poets Magazine 