Saint Julian Press

Leslie Contreras Schwartz ~ Poet

 
PAPER DOLL CHAIN
 
Girls folded in upon girl and
another girl, holding hands of paper
 
a mask of thick mascara, eye-
liner, owling their eyes
 
paper dolls for play, holding
hands and repeating
 
thoughts,
solo boats set afloat
 
by boys and men, pushed
farther still by the white world.
 
How to anchor except by holding hands with other
girls, girls to size up and compare,
 
how their edges crease or fold more than
yours, how you want that too. That rusty anchor
 
in my best friend, which I held onto,
its breast shape and weighted steady
 
as she practices her hand-smother and the gentle crush
of me. How else are we to prepare for the Mexican boys
 
now roaming the hallways, their arms
a hanging hook around some brown girl's neck?
 
Girls wanting to know
what it takes be a woman, how much to erase.
 
The rubber tip leaving no mark
 
left of a girl in a woman set inside the body of a man
 
or a boy. For now, it’s a game of that blow
she knows is coming. I let her teach
 
it to me, practice and practice the art of being
inside other bodies, hers and then his
and his, all those brown, white,
 
red bodies.
Never mine.