We learned to jump
out the window. First grade, first floor.
My knees only stung a little when I landed
in grass. We played tag, Willow was the bad
guy and Max and I hid behind the oak.
Did I tell you there’s an oak tree, Mom,
like the one at home? I can hide behind
the vines. I can climb.
In spring, I can wear green and disappear
like a Pacific octopus. Pacific octopuses are
soft but tricky.
We had lunch, I spelled my name, got a
cubby where my rain boots go. We sang
a clean-up song
and locked the door.
Stephanie Paterik
Go to Source
Author: The Best American Poetry
