A FRAYED RED MITTEN

A RED FRAYED MITTEN

Few friends knew why I sat
on a snow bank, close to
frozen ice – watching them
skate –

My frayed red mitten would
be covering my pointer finger
as I drew names, houses, on
ice –

Mother wondered why I never
wanted to skate – she knew I
detested brown straps around
my ankles on sparkling white
skates –

We walked up Seneca Street
turned left on Lenox Road and
a few more blocks, there it was
Steinmiz Park, frozen for all
neighborhood children –

Wind blew in my face, coated
nose, Ice stiffened gloves –
then I sat and drew pictures
with my pointer, with frayed
red mittens –

Watched mother skate, and
all my friends. Watched girls
twill as I did when I danced
on toe – or in slippers of pink
or black –

I watched until mother and
my brother were ready to take
another cold - walk home, now
wind against my back –
shoving me –

No one saw the city I carved
in ice, left behind near the
snow bank.

Nancy Duci Denofio
2011 @all right reserved