while the bacon fat freed by the iron skillet
rises and fogs the air mom cracks eggs that
pucker white around each orange eye
the toaster pops up and down
over and over six mouths to feed
I gobble and run past the dining room two stairs
at a time two flights up to the pile of torn shorts
and sneakers happy feet know little gravity
my father a lover of green the backyard
a jungle of laughing maples forsythia as high as
I could kick a ball lilacs yet to bend heavy with purple
ivy-covered walls hedges thick with secrets
time stood still then or maybe I ran around
it for I never really saw it my joy was sky high
when he put me to bed one night and didn’t
kiss me or any night after
that hurt a thousand times more than his fork crack to
the forearm for elbows on the table at mealtime
I never ran as freely after that and ate
any way I wanted when he wasn’t looking
and when at last I left I knew I needed a new
kingdom it was time for me to rule