February 6, 2013

Childhood by Dawnell Harrison

Memories of my childhood gather
In a great white ball and reveal
Nothing exciting.
Once I wrote away for some
Miscellaneous junk at 12 and
When I got them I was ecstatic
Because the envelope had my
Name on it. Now I was somebody.
I don’t recall all of the contents
Except two huge paper clips that
Were red and blue.
My step-brother, Scott, skateboarded
And played basketball constantly.
My step-dad killed my hamster
Named Teddy when he didn’t care
For it and left it in the garage
In 110 degree weather.
That made me cry. I hated my step-dad
For a while. Apricots littered our
Backyard. My Mother was always
Tanning herself in the backyard and
Reading self-help books.
Nothing really bad ever happened.
I could be wrong.
I am wrong a lot.

Dawnell Harrison has been published in over 65 magazines and journals including The Endicott Review, Fowl Feathered Review, The Bitchin' Kitsch, Vox Poetica, Abbey, Iconoclast, Puckerbrush Review, Nerve Cowboy, Mobius, and many others.  She has also had 3 books of poetry published through reputable publishers titled Voyager, The maverick posse, and The fire behind my eyes.  

1 comment:

  1. I don't think you are wrong, Dawnell.

    The tremor in the voice of this poem says almost as much as the words.

    Things in childhood leave a mark, almost like a secular Baptism.

    I have not found that time--much time--erases them.

    But writing helps a lot.