Snowman

It was the winter

of third grade year

I was tired of snow

and wary of whiteness.

First day of school

I hid when they taught me

how dirty my face

hands and heart were.

They kept themselves

apart from throwing

Gerber jars full of spiders

that made momma cry.

I run home faster

and from behind

boarded-up windows

don't cry when I watch

snow men in our yard

lose balance in spring

and fall in the dirt

as the white melts away.