Free Entry 1, Week 1

In the roof of your clubhouse rests a nail.
Etched next to the rusty spot is your testimony:
I druved this here. When I told you druved
should be drove you kicked paint on my shoe
and pelted me with calm insults. I reminded you
of your fear of bees and how quickly I was no
longer Fat! or Dumbo, your favorite double jab.
Thank god there was a bee whirling about, next
to your head, and I to swat it with flat hand.
Your mother hollered at us in thick German.
Dumplings for dinner and your Father, his cigar
laced with a perfume of straw, loaded the table.
Parakeets pestered us from the other room,
the dog licked my knees , you whispered
to your mother over the turnips about the stain
you found in your underpants. “Macht nichts,”
she gurled, mouth full of dumplings,” you’ll be
woman now.” Your father forked another pea
as he quelled a cough. “My Mutter once stuck
panties to pole and put in yard for whole village
to see that I grewed into woman’s time.” We nodded,
eyes centered on our dinner plates,quite as stone.
Later, that night as we laid in bed holding hands ,
the cat coiled at our feet, we began to recite
the Serenity Prayer: “Lord, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change…” Serenity,
which I heard in German actually means ailment.