21 May, 2017
Down
and this I’ve never told anyone—
the winter after we bought the house
I took you down to the creek
which seemed safe enough
when I was young
Not quite three, I guess
you didn’t know the terror of stop
(you rarely learn things that aren’t
shouted) and I didn’t have the breath for it
slipping on mud walls where footpaths used to
ease towards the water, lazy barefoot steps
between weeds and rock patio, beer cans and
graffiti, puddles cupped in rocks where we drowned
minnows, trails I knew by taste
on my silt-caked toes
Once, I thought you could grow up
this way. That I’d teach you the lingo
of cicadas, the sanctity of creek-stink
the way that trees hold down the dark
even at noon, the way things slither and crawl
how currents tug, but not enough
to scare you (as long as it hasn’t been raining
too much, like when August storms in, the way the water
eats at the meadow then, erases it, and keeps coming
like everything you know about boundaries
is ignorance, like how they didn’t tell me
boys died in that water, goofing those summer
swells, they only said be careful
it’s deeper than it looks) I should have listened
to a mother’s instinct
he’s too little, no one knows
where we’re going, maybe February is different
maybe things have changed
the way the house has
bigger cracks
smaller rooms, and all the ghosts gone quiet
in the years that I’ve been gone but I was full
of everything I had yet to show you I was once
a girl
gliding
down
the spine of a frozen creek
an initiate
in the secret middle
world
between
earth tree bones and sky
once I walked in the crystal palace quiet
of suspended life—
I knew what magic was
and I wanted you to know it, too.
But you are not me.
You tend to play inside, now, and how can I tell you
that childhood has a way of not staying
how you left it, that things erode, give out
like trails gnawed down to edges, that you
sometimes find yourself alone
stomping inches in the snow, while your mother learns
that fear tastes mud-cold, like creek ice
that feet can forget how to speak
to the ground once you step away
that time
like falling
happens only in the one direction.