on the branches of the cherry tree in our backyard
as if its limbs would bring me
closer to the sky, its buds just beginning to develop
into peeking infants.
Those soft pink pure petals were so beautiful that
I wanted to eat them;
in my mind they would snap between my teeth like
an edged breath
in the middle of a long sentence.
It would be satisfying to make something break.
From in my tree I could hear the television
blaring through the windows of the house:
loud noise to eclipse
the voices of my parents
as they yelled through the walls
about things I had not yet heard of.
I, being outside, was safe under the shade
of the beautiful monster tree that
grew like my big sister.
Always there to hold, to catch.
The soft pink pure clouds were breathlessly
painted upon the blue sky but
something seemed out of place;
this, however, was no bother.
My feet swung through dead
spring air, ready to catch me.
I wouldn’t have run away even
if I could.
Losts and Founds 