by Jennifer van Alstyne

Often I’d climb to the crown of the tree,  

The best hiding spot for hide and seek;  

Or burrow into snow,   

Not notice cold seeping through my coat.  

I made a cave surrounded by Christmas lights  

when I crawled underneath a low-lying bush.  

But the Japanese Maple was my favorite:  

Branches not covered in sap, maroon leaves, roots  

Covered by brown mulch. My mother planted daffodils  

The years before Benzos and Xanax  

In the 2′ round of mulch below, that bright sun.  

I perched at the tip, swaying in dark clouds,  

Wasps disturbed by the weight of my topsiders.  

They never stung me but crawled back  

Into combed halls confused by my silence.

This poem appeared in ELKE in 2017