Secrets
I am a child again, alone on the swing in the back yard,
watching ants in tall grass crawl underground, a break
from the scorching sun. They are smarter than me,
because I will sit here for hours, let the blazing rays
burn my bare skin, and tonight, when the coquis sing
praise to the dark, I will cover my ears with blistered
fists and beg forgiveness
because today I miss the cold winter nights, the frozen pond
where my cousins and I skate until we can't feel our toes,
my uncle Joe's ridiculous jokes, my grandmother's peanut butter
fudge, her soft hands, even the way his rough nails dig into
my bare flesh.
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