The Rope

They handed it over as a joke—

here, try it for old time's sake.

I went in wrong. The rope hit my shins.

Tried again. Same mistake.

Third time I watched my feet

land a half-beat after the slap.

Handed it back. The kid beside me

stepped in without a gap,

clean, her feet reading the rope

the way mine used to at eight.

I stood to the side and watched her go.

My hands knew. My feet were late.