On July days, we played noon till night.

Stayed in the woods.

Climbed the hill behind Granny’s house.

Dug up treasures in the briar patch:

Decapitated dolls, deflated basketballs, rusty cans.

 

One day we missed Sam.

Thought he might be caught in the patch –

A bad match for Brer Rabbit –

But the thicket offered only barbed promises.

 

We finally found him behind the barn,

Shorts and shoes abandoned in the grass,

Naked,

Up to his neck in a mud hole.

 

Sweet dirt filled every pore,

Soothed his sore feet,

Cooled his hot skin.

 

Dismayed at his sin displayed,

He leaped from his bath

And ran home, clay caked

In every nook and cranny.

 

Granny never blinked an eye.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Dirty Secret.” Poetry. 2006 Explorations, MECC, Honorable Mention.