Sestina on Childhood

Sestina on Childhood

She used to wander her small world for hours,
searching for the Holy Grail in her backyard
or the shadows of Roman warriors, once revered.
We tumbled down hills, head over feet,
laughing about detoxification and Catholic guilt,
discussing love we’d never share.

On Halloween, we combined our candy and took our share,
rolling on the floor, sugar high, throughout the hours,
even under our mother’s gazes, rays of guilt.
When it rained, we stayed out in the backyard,
getting soaked to the skin, dirt caking our feet,
dancing like the pop stars we revered.

They seem foolish now, half those things I revered.
You, bringing cookies shaped like dinosaurs to share,
I, crying, when mine broke in pieces at my feet.
We slaved our Easy Bake ovens for hours,
never producing anything worth eating, the backyard
distracted us too much, calling, the smoke masking our guilt.

In church, we learnt that Jesus died for us, the guilt
we felt at causing this made it seem less revered,
like we had to feel bad, or something. Backyard
shenanigans ceased for days, instead we sought to share
plastic rosaries, bent over them like miniature saints, hours
meant nothing. In our heads, we were washing Jesus’ feet.

On her birthday, we captured a lizard. His feet
were foreign stars, poking out from between our fingers, our guilt
at breaking off his tail subsided when we learned, hours
later, that it would grow back. We revered
our new pet, building him houses out of twigs. He’d share
them with the other lizards, we decided. A reptile’s backyard.

We snuck around the wooden fence that bisected my backyard,
forced to tramp through the lake’s edge, our feet
squelching in the mud. We slipped along the bank, our share
of adventure waiting, the only thing on our minds, not guilt
or worry over whether our parents would approve, revered
temples forefront in our thoughts, ancient wonders to fill the hours.

We shared a backyard when we were young, when guilt
Meant little more than apologizing for un-wiped feet, revered
Carpet received its share of dirt, and we grew through the hours.