secret things

outside our small house with gingerbread gables,

the yard packed down with trampling,

ants swarming the heads of dahlia buds,

I crawl into and under a bush

removed from street and house and alleyway

I can believe that this is the whole world

surrounded by branches and safe

from brothers and parents and old lady neighbors

inside cool air and cool earth

in shady half-light where

it’s safe to whisper to dolls

about secret things that

no brother can knock from my hand

no father would be bothered about

no mother has the energy for

no friend will yet share and, in time, confide

~Andrine de la Rocha

posted 1/28/2011