On Being a Woman

My older brother and I
had chased the trails
of rabbits and Indians

deep into the sticks
and far from home
when we reached a creek

and the urge hit.
My brother and I
were equals then in all

but age, and rather
than walk back, he went
in the brook and suggested

I do the same.
Just take it out, he said,
and go, and aim it

at that rock.
I tried and failed,
of course, and when my thighs

grew warm and damp
and my hands
filled with fluid,

I cried, embarrassed,
and ran home, where
my mother laughed a lot.