sliding through the half open doorway of my older sister’s room
I was an adventurer,
searching for treasure and fame amidst the crumpled bed sheets and discarded clothes
I always heard her footsteps above me before I found anything
I wandered the woods that lay like a blanket across the hillside
I tried to categorize everything I saw so that nothing could elude me
you were terra
you were avis
you made me cry with your beauty that I didn’t know enough Latin or English to explain
I found a piece of petrified wood
it sat next to my bed
I memorized it as the day turned to twilight
it lasted forever
When I climbed the pile of rubble and rocks near the green garden shed
I perched atop the peaked roof a queen
eating sour crab apples as I watched the neighbors yell at their children under the oak
for something that I knew they hadn’t done
years earlier
crouching low at the bottom of the blue carpeted stairs
the yarn abrasive against my fingertips
listening to my parent’s hushed voices
trying to make out the words I couldn’t quite understand
or didn’t want to
running fast down the path by the plunging waterfall
feeling the pine needles ***** my hands and knees when I fell
but I couldn’t go home
I had to learn their secrets
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
sliding through the half open doorway of my older sister’s room
I was an adventurer,
searching for treasure and fame amidst the crumpled bed sheets and discarded clothes
I always heard her footsteps above me before I found anything
I wandered the woods that lay like a blanket across the hillside
I tried to categorize everything I saw so that nothing could elude me
you were terra
you were avis
you made me cry with your beauty that I didn’t know enough Latin or English to explain
I found a piece of petrified wood
it sat next to my bed
I memorized it as the day turned to twilight
it lasted forever
When I climbed the pile of rubble and rocks near the green garden shed
I perched atop the peaked roof a queen
eating sour crab apples as I watched the neighbors yell at their children under the oak
for something that I knew they hadn’t done
years earlier
crouching low at the bottom of the blue carpeted stairs
the yarn abrasive against my fingertips
listening to my parent’s hushed voices
trying to make out the words I couldn’t quite understand
or didn’t want to
running fast down the path by the plunging waterfall
feeling the pine needles ***** my hands and knees when I fell
but I couldn’t go home
I had to learn their secrets