Kindergarten

These peach colored walls with cut paper flowers,

will not save us, won’t protect us from each other,

we cannot be safe here, no matter what they tell us.



Between the red toy box and the milk and cookie snack time,

between the corners of the room and the sharp smell of sour lime,

their cut glass whispers slice her heart like knives cutting into wrists.



She cries a helpless stain into her new green dress,

but no one tries to stop the words that trigger her distress,

just stand back and look away for fear that they’ll be next.



Whoever said children were angels did not know them at all,

if the lock weren’t stubborn I would join her in the bathroom stall,

but we both stand there gravely awaiting the help that will not come.



It might not be all right now, I say, but I promise it will someday,

when I have mastered taekwondo and have driven them away,

we will leave this pink-tiled prison and go skipping down the walk.



The crack between her fears and the lock fixed on the door,

splits fat and wide as her ocean tears begin to approach the shore,

she steps out of her own shadow and we walk back into the room.



Those peach colored walls with cut paper flowers have long been left behind,

both she and I and all our demons have grown and been refined,

there is something about those days that I just can’t understand,

When all of this was going on, where did the teachers go?