Get Your Premium Membership


I don't know when they crying ended 
or how deep the barbwire was buried
I didn't even know how far it extended

I found it, running away from the Rhubarb
Almost lost wanting to be free 
from one home to the next house

The next house was an old lady
The next house was at the edge of the woods
All the Scotch broom was between me and there

I was running, eager to play at the house
past the old lady because they were my age
and maybe they could understand or explain
why I was running away from my house

my house was a big red house that felt lonely
I didnt have any friends in that house 
even when they would pretend to be

I ran through yellow flowers and grass
and suddenly tripped, felt fire 
it wasn't grass 
it was barbwire

Half buried, like it didn't matter anymore
it probably ran underground for a mile
only surfacing sometimes
to remind me

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Post Comments
Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.