A Secret Space

by Di Bates

There was shelter –

An upturned water tank

With an entrance hole —

My secret space

In the brittle summer bush

Where I’d hide,

Dark and bruised and splintered.

In those childhood days

I was an outlaw of sorts,

Travelling alone,

Not fitting anywhere,

Listening to cicadas throbbing

With song,

Beyond words,

Wanting nothing

But the arc of my mother’s arms.

• Submitted in response to 2016 Poetry Prompt #1