Melanie Figg
FIRST BIKE RIDE
My sister’s blue
three speed had
a white rear fender
flat enough
for me to sit on.
I held on tight.
Her body was all
I could see
ahead of me and
the blurry sides,
the ground so fast.
At the top of the hill
we dropped and
the speed made her
hair fan my face,
the speed made
me scream. I looked
down and watched
my left foot meet
the spokes. I screamed
with the speed of it
winding my sneaker
into a spiral. I screamed
at the easy cutting of the wheel
and the wonder of watching.
And my sister
she thought
I was still screaming
for the blur of houses
and trees passing,
for the thrill of her
attention.