Here is a thoughtful poem by Maine poet Jenny Doughty, whose Moon Pie Press book is
SENDING BETTE DAVIS TO THE PLUMBER (2017). This poem was “Highly Commended” in
the Bridport Prize international writing competition in the UK.
WATCHING THE LITTLE SISTERS
The teenage boys have gone to a back yard
somewhere in the neighborhood to hang out
behind a garage, pass around a joint,
and now I see their little sisters
take a turn at the basketball hoop
on the sidewalk: fifth graders in shorts
or old leggings starting to climb above
their thin ankles, T shirts still printed
with unicorns, still flat across their chests.
To watch them is to travel back in time
before the uniform of gender
fell across my shoulders, before the weight
of breasts and male gaze boxed out freedom
even more than the shot clock of childhood,
before bleeding and the inescapable
decades to come of decisions wrapped up
in owning a grown woman’s body.
There are so many ways of being fouled.
I never see them alone; they huddle
in pairs or groups of three or four. I hear
their high voices chattering, their laughter,
before the basketball bops on asphalt.
They practice defense, as women must,
dodging side to side to block a shot.
They jump high in front of the girl with the ball,
flinging their arms into the air, T-shirts
riding up over their bare bellies.
Copyright 2022 by Jenny Doughty. Reprinted with permission.
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