A Red Tricycle in the Belly of the Pool

the live oak over the nursery got a disease they could only save one limb it wasn’t surprising; it wasn’t that kind of nursery a girl rode her red tricycle around the bottom of the pool the pool had no water; it hadn’t rained the girl kept smelling her hand it smelled like honeywheat, or the inside of a girl’s panties someone said, race you she nodded okay and pedaled like hell after three laps no one had passed her she looked over her shoulder, lost her balance ripped her hands & knees on the blue concrete the one limb on the live oak curved like a question would she need stitches again there was already ink under her skin & iodine on her tongue or was it the other way around she could see black thread bunching sewing centipedes under her skin her throat burned and she couldn’t move her legs it wasn’t a tricycle it was something she couldn’t get her foot out from under she hated to stop or lose her shoe and, I’m sorry the pool was full of water