All That Competence

She didn't look at me once.

Didn't need to.

Stood at the front of the gym

in her good shirt, making eye contact

with the back wall, with the teachers,

with every parent in the room

except me.

I was glad.

And I was afraid.

Both at once, the way weather is sometimes

both at once.

She said her sentences clean and whole.

No filler, no glance at the note card

she'd made and didn't use.

The other kids shifted in their chairs.

She didn't.

When it was over I clapped

and my hands went numb from the wrists down.

Just — numb. The signal cut.

She moved to her seat before

the clapping stopped.

Already somewhere else.

Already needing nothing

from this room.

I sat with my numb hands in my lap

and couldn't figure out

what I was so afraid of.