My I Am From Poem
I am from peanut butter
Stuffed in thick mounds into tiny sandwiches.
I’m from short boat rides on the lake,
From the soft hum of the radio
As the boat floats around the cove.
I’m from the cherry tree in the backyard,
Where the treehouse of my mind sat
Until it was toppled
And ground to a stump.
I’m from the sharp smell of rubbing alcohol
Hanging in the air,
A friendly reminder of what was to come,
Even when I knew it wouldn’t come at all.
I am from a low-lying fort in the snow.
I am from the little clumps of snow
That freeze my wrist in my gloves,
Reminding me not to come out in the snow again.
I am from the stage,
Where the huge costume just won’t stay on.
I am from vowing to never wear a huge costume again.
I am from irritating rubber bands in braces,
From flights over miniature green fields.
I am from all of these places,
Places I have visited,
And places where I still lie.
I have visited many more,
But the place I’m really from,
Is that one hospital downtown,
If we’re going to be literal about it.
Copyright © Joseph Coogan | Year Posted 2015
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