Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Beverly Higginson

Majorette

My sister marched with Washington High's
famed Drum and Bugle Corps--the first black member
"Every girl wants to be on the drill team" she said

She practiced in the living room
square patterns, intricate steps
legs kicking up in back
one hand held a brass bugle
pressed firmly against her side
hips swayed--slammed--
right   left   right   left!

her tan freckled face set like stone
determined--eyes front, riveted
"Every girl wants to be on the drill team"
she said, "but not every girl makes it"

Her head snapped with each turn of her body
razor-sharp corner turns that flattened mom's carpet
she squared it up, oblivious to me
I watched her every step,
copied the moves in secret,
marched to internal rhythms,
my own beat

She performed with the team
I never saw those times
only carpet marching in the living room
a college freshman now,
I wonder if she remembers those days

I am a blurry-eyed tenth grader in a fog
first year of high school
unsure of my surroundings
a scrub again
no immediate goals, no lofty dreams to pursue
the same eight to three job with new bosses

until one day after school
an afternoon laced with autumn breezes
front grounds buzzing with student babble,
laughter    hand holding    secrets
two boys with arms draped over the shoulders of girls
girls smiling up at them as if they are in love

I'm by myself
one thought crosses my mind
no boy has an arm over my shoulder

Then a shrill siren from a whistle
mine and others' eyes drift toward the sound
it rises high into the air where a mellow sun
casts a half shadow over the spectacle
auditorium doors open like an embrace
magically, the shadow moves away

Drum and Bugle Corps stands in formation
100 girls in red and blue with starched white skirts
shiny bugles pitched on hips
drums strapped over tall erect shoulders
the team shines like fireworks exploding
their eyes trained on the head piston--

A blue-eyed brunette no taller than me
no stronger, braver, or better than me
a silvery steel baton under her arm like a sword
a whistle around her neck
each whistle blow signals a move
each move precise     on point     awesome
the ground shakes under the booming drumbeat
echoes throughout the corridor walls

Captivated, a shiver straightens my back
indifference in a blink turns to desire so hot
my eyes burn
the team disappears, the essence remains
lingering moments fill with possibilities
I know what I want

the sophomore haze is less dense
the road home, clearer
I breathe again

Never saw my sister march
a year later, she would watch me lead
Me, the Majorette

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