big enough

We are packing the car 
to go to the summerhouse 
everything is in bits and pieces. 
Nicky and I are fighting 
over the seat but I 
am not moving, 
I am sitting on my pink 
swimming ring that Daddy says 
I don't need anymore 
because I am big enough, 
old enough, 
and fast enough 
to swim on my own.

i shout when i win

We are running races 
in the meadow 
with the kids from down 
the street-Kevin, Lonny, Angie- 
legs pumping, 
hands swinging, 
my feet blur 
as I pull ahead of 
everyone 
my breath works 
my heart works 
my legs work 
and I shout 
when I win.

i am hiding

I am hiding in 
their garage, the oily one 
with the dented car, 
and Kevin is running past, 
looking for me 
with hands that grab, 
and Lonny is looking, too, 
with his fat wavery lips 
like worms that want 
to squish on my cheeks, 
and they say it's a game 
but I am shivery 
in the garage 
with the smell of oil 
all around.

i didn't even know

"I'll read to you," 
Kevin whispers, 
"a secret time for us 
and never, ever tell." 
He takes my hand 
and leads me up the stairs. 
But in my hot, yellow room 
the book falls to the floor 
and he jams his hands 
inside of me 
and takes out his private parts 
that I didn't ever know 
could look so huge and strange, 
telling me to touch him 
in a hard, breathless voice, 
and I didn't even know 
I could say 
no.

my dolls know

I am holding it all 
inside like when I am sick 
and running to find a bathroom 
the words are crowding behind 
my lips bursting to get out 
so bad my lips ache 
but I can't. You said no 
not ever not nohow 
and you bunched your fist 
in my face. 
But my dolls know, 
Jenny, Amanda, and Fuchsia. 
At night 
I tell them what you did 
and they are sad for me 
with their wide-open eyes 
and surprised mouths.

i thought a secret

I thought a secret was 
a cookie hidden in a hand, 
like the one you hold now 
as you lead me up the stairs. 
My feet drag 
they know what is waiting 
at the top 
but I am too small 
to say no 
only my body is so 
slow      it is waiting 
for someone to 
notice 
I am going away.

Excerpted from LEARNING TO SWIM (c) Copyright 2000 by Ann Turner. Reprinted with permission from Scholastic. All rights reserved.