I watched the squares
on my red checked dress
every play time
as he sat next to me
on the freshly cut grass

the smell of it, eating up
my senses, consuming me

I counted the dates
on the calendar
above the teachers head
every time we were made
to sit together

how one number can roll
onto the next without
ceremony, without being
noticed

I wasn't noticed
only bty him

at nine, you don't understand
what a boys hand down your pants means

you don't understand why it makes
you feel sick,

why it makes you cry yourself to sleep
at night,

you tolerate it, so sure that
this is the way the world works

I was taught to fear men, before I understood fear,
before I understood men

the seeds that were planted in me, rotten, no fruit
would ever grow, no flowers bloom

I would remain tight, in the bud
for a long time

maybe forever

I am waiting for the right kind of rain