When I was a child
Climbing the rusty gate was an easy task
To toughen small feet, soft hands

Until I slipped
Under barbed wire, electric
Burning flesh, hair tangling

When I was a child
I knew blood was red in air
Blue veins went somewhere else

When the door tore my hand
Flapping skin, white bone
Only splinters dipped in ruby gleamed

When I was a child
Mice picked through slop
My feet scaring them in black rubber

Cats picked off rats
Whose cries sound nothing at all
Like the death squeal of a pig

When I was a child
Immune to smell, dirt
Sand and fathers were face paint

Cows guarded their calves
Hooves stomped, missing my hand
Pulling grass to tempt the small ones

When I was a child
Earth spoke chamomile riddles
In an echo silo, whispering

I’m not a farm-girl anymore

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