That thin black line
has been my nemesis
for a decade.
It has taunted me from above.
High and condescending
as I rise on tiptoes
but still come up short.
I almost had it last year.
The crown of my head
broke past the barrier
until someone shouted,
“Flat feet!”
I sank down.
The line
loomed over me.
Gloating.
Not this year.
This year, I am ready.
This year, I will win.
I stride up to the sign,
place my heels under the line.
My dad grins.
The rope opens before me.
Rollercoaster,
here I come.
*
Stefanie Salyer is a neurodivergent author and poet from New York’s Hudson Valley. A perennial lover of language, she loves debating the nuances of words with anyone who will listen. She works as a substitute teacher, volunteers for the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI), and moonlights as a mermaid.
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