Teaching Mavis to Ride a Bike
by
Faith Shearin

We practiced in Baltimor
e's alleys
with her dress tucked in so
it would not catch in her wheels.

It was late summer
and we waited until after supper
when the sun melts. I held
the seat and handlebars

and she pedaled as fast
as she could. She has
such thin legs, such balance.
It did not take

long before she left me
standing in place: hands
in my pockets, throat
full of hope.