i know i haven’t grown but
i don’t fit beneath the rose
bush by my grandmother’s porch
i couldn’t have grown so much though
i don’t see why the back of the couch
doesn’t hide me from my sister
the lightning that would flash
on summer days brought shouts
of you children be still the lightning’s
gonna get you
we laughed my cousins and sister and i
at the foolish old people
and their backward superstitions
though lightning struck me
in new york city
and i ran
to or from what i’m not sure
but i was hit
and now i don’t fit
beneath the rose bushes
anymore
anyway they’re gone