Candy

Candy

Don't go in the river. All the time,
they told us that. Don't go across the road,
or in the woods, or down in the ravine
where somebody's old stove lay rusted red.
That's tetanus, they said. Don't stomp the beans.
It hurts the yield. Don't stuff the outhouse full
of sticks. No matches, knives, or kerosene.
No saw. No nail gun, dammit. What the hell
is wrong with you? Can't leave you kids alone.
Don't use the boat. Don't put mosquito spray
cans in the fire. Blows up, dumbass. And don't
go in those abandoned cabins. We said okay.
Ah, childhood. Gnawing gutters, windowpanes.
Waiting for a witch who never came.

-Amanda Williamsen

published 2016 in Red Wheelbarrow, volume 17