Tuesday, September 9, 2008


Nine years ago today
Pens inked the paper that signaled
The U-haul to take my bedroom
Across town
Down a hill

I was nine years old
and learning how to name
all the States on a map
There was a fort
Across the street
down the cul-de-sac

Bricks, cream carpet
Boxes labeled "Bedroom #3"
That was mine
And I opened up the packing tape
My own Christmas of all
The things I re-gifted to

Nine, nine, ninety-nine
I found a place to grow
To sink my roots deep and
Suck until my mouth was full
of Light.

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