Kickball
I was always picked last
My shorts were too short
Inching up my inner thighs
I’d outgrown the pink tank top
And my belly hung like the moon
Captains took turns picking
I wasn’t selected
Alone as a Statuary
Eyes somber
The girls branded as the clique
Mocked me
Awkward, embarrassed
As if my clothes had fallen off
Being last was not a pick
But a forced entry
My teammates taunt
The tears, I swallow
Lip tight
Courage thrives in adversity