I Remember
I Remember the Morning I realized I was not a priority
that my mother had other obligations.
Standing in our kitchen of green cabinets and yellow wallpaper
confined in school clothes and socks
cold cereal sloshing around in my belly.
The worn cast iron skillet sitting empty atop the stove.
I Remember the Afternoon I realized shame
that feeling of humility and longing.
Staring down at the cracked asphalt near the school building.
Not picked to play kickball with the boys
not welcomed with open arms and glee to cheer with the girls.
Left leaning against the metal bearings of the swing set.
I Remember the Evening I realized I was not treasured
that he was not on his way.
Gripping the phone in anticipation of his excuse
teeth tearing my nails to the quick
as her voice came through the receiver
bubbling over with giggles and cruelty.
She had been a friend.
I Remember the Night I grew up
drinking down the bitterness of the past
pushing away childish wishes of white horses, pumpkin carriages, and ugly ducklings.
Cutting off my wounded limbs
and concealing myself inside a crypt of self preservation.
I remember I barricaded the entrance well.
No one can enter. No one can touch me.
Not even me.