All I Had Was the Back Yard
I would turn toward the swamp
and wonder what crawled
beneath the skunk cabbage,
and then belly under, survey.
I was the kind of child who flew
on a stump past the moon
to the other moon, whether it was
round or sharp as a garden shovel.
When rain sheeted the windows
I puddled in bare feet
across the driveway ocean
because the cloud-light held me.
I was the kind of child who jarred
inchworms with fireflies,
who collected earth and air,
took notes like Harriet the Spy.
When the pages were full
I buried them behind the stone
which was my second home.
I ate flowers for dessert.
This poem is about:
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: