I am seven.
I am hiding under the table
With a paperback I stole from mothers’ shelf.
I am on an expedition into the kingdom of Adult.
Past the realms of popping corks,
And secret TV channels
I have stolen from the word keepers,
I have found the forbidden key, the treasure trove.
I will join the kingdom of Adult and learn their magic,
Once I have learned what fuck means.
I am eight.
Stood at the edge of the woods breadcrumbs in hand,
When I hear her calling…
Come my pretty one
Let me show you magic.
I stare at the witches beckoning finger, the honey dripping from her lips.
She looks like a word keeper, someone who’s seen all I wish to see
Her world does not belong in the kingdom of Adult
People in gingerbread houses don’t have popping corks
Only popping candy
And I have no interest in that.
I am thirteen.
I no longer fit under the table so I hide in my bedroom instead.
The monsters moved out months ago,
Off to find a smaller girl who still jumps at bumps in the night.
And a prince is outside my window singing,
Come my lady love
And let me show you wonder.
He is like me,
Words that don’t fit his mouth and gangly knees.
I watch as he sings me his promises and begs for a kiss.
But I do not fly down from my window to greet him
I have not yet learned how.
I have turned twenty-one
And I have folded myself under the table with a paperback from my shelf.
I have been on an expedition, an adventure that surpasses the kingdom of Adult.
I have walked with witches,
Kissed the princes outside my window and,
Invited monsters into my bed.
Seen the way it makes a room tremble
When the magic of child and adult mingle into something better then popping corks
Or popping candy.
I’ve been a princess and a monster and a witch.
I am a word keeper
And I say fuck.
Among other things. . .