I was the last of five.

The ending. The eternal baby.

Life set me up for the last

And has spun out that way.

A name clinched it

Even in kindergarten.

Zoe Zefir. Last table.

Last desk and last in line.

The last shall be first

A total lie it seemed.

Dancing class in middle school

Lined up alphabetically,

Coupled with the last boy

Who was always shorter

Than me and instantly

Hated my tall, lanky frame.

High school? I towered

Over all those “cute” girls,

Last to be chosen for any game,

Never to know a date,

Never experience a dance,

Never attended a prom.

Last across the stage for a diploma,

The hall already cleared out.

Zoe Zefir. The girl at the back.

The giraffe, the nerd, unremarkable.

My life defined by being last.