You said to be scared of the alligators Every time we walk this trail
Little turtles glide and perch A fresh lawn smelling of grass and pollen
Rocks covered in lichen and slime Jumping on them anyway
Avoiding bright blue waters And piercing sun beams
Grasping at the little fragments Of youth left in me
When the fall wind starts to creep in And I’m made into a tattered piece of cloth Where can I grasp So I don’t blow away into the trash
When the winter snow falls to the ground And I’m made into a starving dog Where can I eat So I don’t freeze to the bone
When the spring growth spurts And I’m made into a bug allergic to color Where can I stay So I don’t choke myself
When the summer heat bakes the air And I’m made into a rusted piece of metal Where can I be So I don’t burn sores into myself
if only leaves never browned and you didn’t tire of calling my name
if only the moon could wrap me in her warm blanket and care webs could form effortlessly like silkworms in their element
if only a cat’s purr could lull me to gentle rest and we could all be fluent in each others touch languages
if only if only if only
I turned the lights off and held a match unlit To feel the terror crawling through my body To test my patience My endurance for pain To feel the want The desperation For a match lit To guide the way
In the pitch black nothingness Only your voice on the phone I surrendered the little hungry pieces of me That were left And took note of my fear My emptiness In that pitch black nothingness