This is what I remember:
The planks leaned against the wall
would fall if we weren't careful
Tarzan swinging on the frayed black snakes
that coiled around the beams
because if they could still power florescents  
no one ever told us.
We shattered the old windows stacked in the briers
to make our new home shimmer
when we set the hay ablaze
because if they were going to use them for the house
no one ever told us.
We heard dad call the
pit of snakes insulation
but we killed them all with shovels,
couldn't risk it.
Never knowing the real snakes
were slipping under the front door
and though big brothers might have known
we were fighting the wrong war
no one ever told us.
Or maybe we don't remember
when you said to be careful in the barn
but to go ahead and play out there
and not to hurry home.