Integer

Jenn Blair

I never believed in pie or the rest of it.

Bringing X’s into the thing. One girl sat

next to me, perpetually blonde and cheerful.

she had a little pair of scissors in her book bag

and would take them out and happily snip

away at her arm hair the hour the teacher

droned on. The afternoon sun made even

the smallest hairs glint. As one who dyed

at home, locked up with plastic pot

and spatula in the bathroom in shame

yelling to my brother I’d be out in a minute

I was fascinated with her nonchalance;

she didn’t care about math or everyone

seeing her efforts to be less animal.

I shifted in my seat, anxious, tugged

at my sleeves and tried to make sense of the

convulsing numbers on the board, that I

might stand approved before men and God.