Crawling under a table
fourth grader's storm
shelter
I read until
the rain demanding
entrance at the library’s
windows was forgotten
teachers whispered and
clucked
my odd behavior
promptly reported
did my parents know the
disquieting quirks of
their youngest born
“I was scared of the
storm,”
I defended
“I did what made me
feel safe.”
Some fears you don’t outgrow
others newly added
safety was long ago
I lie curled
body a crooked s
quaking under cover
Small comfort in the
insistent
warmth of the cat
purring behind my knees
waiting
waiting
for the storms to pass
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