It’s the Little Things | Bev Fesharaki
by Bev Fesharaki
My nickname, scrawled
on the picture of a naked woman
on her knees.
The shame.
Little things.
It’s the chubby fourth grade boy
who hollered “fat four eyes”.
I wear contacts, suck
in my stomach, don’t recognize
the thin woman in the mirror.
The bully who snapped
my training bra, bellowed,
“You’re growing ‘em.”
swaggered away sniggering.
My shoulders slumped, permanently.
The surprise vagrant
who displayed his penis
pulsing pink and proud.
I still see it in my sleep.
The law students on the …
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