Tonight's Poet Corner: Childhood Hideout

Childhood Hideout
by Belinda Roddie

Under the couch, we find the keys
to an attic that leads us to odd antiques:
clocks that don't tick right, and
jewelry that doesn't fit right, and enough
hats to cover the heads of everyone
in California and Texas combined.

You pull on a fedora that belonged
to your grandfather. You look so suave,
but your smile is frail. I want to give
it strength by kissing it, but my lips
are pale, and quivering, and cold.

We promise that this secret place
is ours and ours alone, and as the
years squeak by, we drink the dust
like wine. We weave the cobwebs
into clothing, and we're silver like
a cemetery, hearing the rattling
of watches that tell us the hour,
but never when it's time to leave.