“On the Challenger” by Leora Fridman
Neither a young
math genius nor
a martyr, I was
left with little
to pity. Though
the numbers
meant nothing,
a seven-person
family lived
down the block.
My aging friends
teethed on new
molds of plastic,
didn’t release dust
in the air around
our mouths. Rather,
we sank even-
numbered teeth-marks
into Ken’s bronzed shins,
Barbie’s flexed
knee.
Copyright © Leora Fridman, 2010