From Winter 2004

"Just Afraid"

We were afraid of everything: poison ivy, a case
of the flu that would leave us in the house for
days, stitches, toothaches, that funny word-Alzheimer's,
that made Grandma forget who we were, measles, chicken pox
that might leave scars. We were afraid we'd

step on a crack and break our mother's back, dying
if we didn't hold our breath past cemeteries, that we'd
walk past a black cat or under a ladder, spilling the salt
on the table, smashing a mirror and having seven years
of bad luck, the number 13, especially Friday the 13th,
especially home alone on Friday the 13th.

We were terrified of the skin-headed, tattooed, Johnny boys
who threw rocks through our windows and burnt
fish behind the bushes next to the lake, tornadoes that would
come during softball games, ants on our blankets at picnics,
Barbie dolls that lost heads, arms, and legs. We were afraid of

having bad grades because our parents would yell at us,
afraid of good grades b/c kids would make fun of us,
getting fat, so we watched what we ate and made sure
to exercise, what we did when our parents didn't see
but God did, of what to say in confession, of what He would do
if we didn't tell Everything.

We were once terrified of cooties, but then wanted kisses.
Were afraid of getting caught playing doctors with the boys
next door, caught sneaking out of the house, caught playing
spin the bottle behind the garden. We were scared that our first kisses
were with girls, that we wanted to wear short skirts and show off
our emerging breasts, that we b/c we left lipstick kisses
on many faces, other girls would call us whores.

We were afraid of our parents' angry voices
that filtered through our bedroom doors as we lay huddled
underneath the sheets in the dark, the sound of dishes hitting
the wall. Terrified of asshole, and bitch, and you mother-fucking-bastard.

We were afraid
that one of the times dad left
he really wouldn't come
back,
and when he didn't come back,
we were afraid.
Just afraid.