i.
wrap up my childhood in christmas packaging
even though it's july.
i want to see the candy-coated gloss of the wrapping paper
and remember how much i used to hate the month of december.
i'll see the red and green stripes on the ribbon
and won't open it, because i hated getting anything from you.
ii.
watch me through the windows as i pack middle-school memories
in the attic.
spiders are packed up here and
there is one i particularly like;
the brown recluse that resides in an old book box.
it is the most poisonous of all the spiders.
(i hope it bites me.)
iii.
as i look through a dusty old book,
(the brown recluses' favorite,)
i see a picture of me when i was six.
i had freckles specked on my nose and cheeks, the pale white
skin consuming them.
strawberry blonde wrapped around my tender frame,
a color that i miss.
(if i could go from seventeen to six, i would.)
iv.
memories are nothing to be proud of.
not to me.















Comments