On Constructing Girls

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A grey and white
lop eared bunny
named Pogo Bop
needed a home,
so my dad and I built him one.

My father was a carpenter
and a perfectionist,
so he constructed the rabbit hutch
as I stood idly by,
anxiously awaiting my chance
to swing a hammer,
use the circular saw.

He promised me
I’d be called in,
get to measure,
cut and pound,
but I never did.

Just like I never was offered
the keys to ride his dirt bike
or allowed to strap on a tank
and go scuba diving with him.

Was it the length of my eyelashes
and fondness for nail polish,
or my perceived lack of expertise,
that prompted my father
to leave me ever empty-handed?

April 18, 2013
Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo #18

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