Child’s walls

Secrecy, shame plaster this child’s walls,
night arrives hushing humid air–
summer nights uncovered, I lie,
special, awaiting a silhouette,
Are my playground friends special?
They hold me to the ground,
I can’t cry. I was told “Don’t.” in a strained, raspy voice.

Water rises behind dams built 10 years past,
quiet, except grunting ghosts of breath, but
I can’t say I love you
until you thieve me.
For I have no, “No,”
between innocent nights of dreams.