A poem by Audre Lorde
As I Grow Up Again
A little boy wears my mistakes
like a favorite pair of shorts
outgrown at six
my favorite excuse was morning
and I remember that I hated
spring's change.
At play within my childhood
my son works hard learning
which doors do not open easily
and which clocks will not work
he toys with anger like a young cat
testing its edges
slashing through the discarded box
where I laid my childish dreams to rest
and brought him brown and wriggling
to his own house.
He learns there through my error
winning with secrets
I do not need to know.
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