I lied.
I said she said okay,
But I hadn’t even asked.
.
Lying to Grandma,
that’s how much I wanted to,
I’d even lie to Grandma.
.
The project courtyard had fenced in grass,
no larger than a tiny garden or
a tiny prison cell,
.
And that day it was covered in snow,
smooth, unbroken, clean snow,
like in Alaska or some mountain somewhere.
.
I clenched the bars of the fence
and stared in
and wanted to so badly,
.
just a step,
just to enter into this tiny wilderness,
right in the middle of Queens.
.
“Mom said I could,” I said
That was my lie to Grandma:
“Mom said I could go in there,”
.
but then
I realized
I wouldn’t fit.
.
The bars were too close together
I was a skinny six year old but
I was too big a human to fit.
.
I wasted a whole lie,
and Grandma told,
and I got punished.
.
But I already was punished,
and the fence kept the wilderness safe
from humans like me.
nice one, Alice!
We need a poetry and art event but I haven’t got time to help organize it!
Hetty
which day do you need box office help for the play? I can do any day except June 7th – which is the day I head back to Amherst from my house/dog sit on Williamsburg Road.
On Thu, May 24, 2018 at 2:34 PM, A Poet’s Indulgence wrote:
> alicebarrett posted: “I lied. I said she said okay, But I hadn’t even > asked. . Lying to Grandma, that’s how much I wanted to, I’d even lie to > Grandma. . The project courtyard had fenced in grass, no larger than a tiny > garden or a tiny prison cell, . And that day it” >