Babysitting
we were paid almost nothing
back in the 70s
and seemed destined to have brats
who fabricated facts
(with admirable persistence)
about candy and bedtimes
I once threatened a child
with a knife
albeit a dull, rounded
butter knife
(and of course I didn’t mean it)
things just got to that point.
Sunday School Mornings Afloat in the Red Backseat of the Old Chrysler, My Stomach Knotted Up
as I braced for the boy I’d been told
to stay away from
around the basement classroom
he lumbered
in his suede Lederhosen
looking to bite or scratch
unprovoked, he screamed
between Moses and a bulrush
his face red as raw steak
he ate paste and stomped crackers
we scooted close to the teacher
a nervous rustle of corduroy and petticoats
his skin returned to flesh-tone
he spoke briefly in a normal voice
about a trip to Germany, a pet turtle
then he curled into a lower cupboard
bare knees to chin
pulling shut
Martha Clarkson’s writing can be found in The Seattle Times, Clackamas Literary Review, Seattle Review, Portland Review, The Sun magazine, Mothering magazine, Feminine Rising, Quarter Past Eight, and Nimrod. She is the winner of the Anderbo Fiction Prize for the story “Her Voices, Her Room,” which has been produced as a podcast by PenDust Radio. She has two notable short stories in Best American Short Stories. Martha was a former poetry editor for Word Riot. Find her at www.marthaclarkson.com and on instagram at @minoxbee.