Sheila Dong

you were in fourth grade

you were in fourth grade and sam was in fifth, reading together from a book about the trojan war. sometimes you were first to finish both pages and enjoyed a few seconds to yourself as sam caught up. other times she was the one waiting for you. menna-loss, you pronounced it. sam said, it’s actually menna-layus, and you stared. you couldn’t tell her how it brought you to your knees, that syllable break between the a and the u opening like a struck oyster. through the fracture, a violin hummed. a curtain drew back on a cracked painting of a redheaded woman. the woman led a goat to a stream and it drank thirstily. menelaus, you incanted, and went home and sharpened a pencil.

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