2011

i was a playground superspy,

shifting agent of the woodchips and laminate,

fingers blood-drenched emerald

with the world's most washable markers.

we lived thin between blue lines—

dusted paperback, cobwebbed computers,

yellowed agate, taxidermy.

lights-off stories gave gaping hunger.

crayonsmell education gave us teeth.

our mothers knit us armor,

tangled defense from

crystal dampness, grass-stain,

metallic lace of frostbite—

yet they will never know our lives.

my boys spoke me to saturn;

my girls, my archers, ran tandem,

savage banners. each breath

hailed life, manna in the desert,

each visage a prism,

a thousand faces of

tattered rainbow.

so you say, "i will be this"

you say, "you will be that"

and i say, though i am grown, "yes" —

i still think i love you, all of you.

i still think whatever you want me to be,

whatever you want.