Kelsey Webb asked to recite her poem before giving any introduction or clarification.

As an Enumclaw High School teenager, Webb had found herself in an uncomfortable, and yes terrifying, situation. It had painfully jolted her emotions and ignited knowledge of what could occur.

Webb had recently re-connected with a good childhood friend who had been a constant companion. The two were grown now, their teenage years focused on adulthood. But that night, the girlfriend was definitely not the person Webb had known as a child, with the qualities she recalled from her youth. For Webb, it was a night of peer pressure and the fear of being a teenage girl. The girlfriend was hanging out with older men, bringing them along for adventure that was moving too fast for comfort and speed limits.

Webb recited a poem about the event during a recent meeting of local poets.

Webb’s untitled poem:

A shattered compass

a stranger’s car

branches on the road

fingers shaking

unfamiliar laughing

I don’t belong

driving fast

I can’t control it

This used to be my best friend

one eleven a.m.

hanging handcuffs

swinging back and forth

they say they remember

what it’s like being my age

somebody pull me away.