The Former Today

My childhood was a Series Of Unfortunate Events,

a toddler’s mouthful of cat hair.

Deep-fried Danish cookies cooling on the stove top

wrinkled hands swatting stubby fingertips from grabbing the dough.

A bucket containing a dead mouse,

a tetanus booster forgotten about.

Stitches holding together a blanket of wild things that growl

of wild things that hiss

of wild things that live.

It was never meant to be mine.

Frustrated groans,

moans about who will get the grapes

before the cries of sandy tears mix with filthy water wounds.

Splashing iceberg water on papery skin,

burning to salmon tones,

gliding down rivers.

Daily trips

turned to monthly trips

turned to yearly trips

turned to no trips.

Cat hair nothing but a memory as

iceberg water splashes against nothing

and papery skin remains pale.

Wrinkled hands turned to ash

hidden beneath a blue pine.

Her cookies only spoken of in fond memories of what used to be.

Childhood memories found only in dreams,

a parade gliding across the forefront of the conscious mind.

What was it like to grow in the forest?

An overwhelming sense of direction branded into thick skin,

a false sense of peacefulness inevitably betraying its host as the years passed by.