Poetic Bloomings Rebelliousness

Little Rebel

I credit my aunt for squelching

my rebelliousness early on.

As children, my cousins and I played

all over our country neighborhood.

A favorite place was in the creek

across from my cousins’ house.

We liked to play Gilligan’s Island,

tornado warning when we kicked hard

splashing water everywhere,

and we built dams to make deep pools.

Usually we played all as a mob,

but this particular day I was alone.

I decided to work on the current dam.

I was only about six or seven.

My aunt spied me and told me

to not be in the creek alone and

to get out until one of the older kids came.

I was furious that she didn’t think I was

big enough to play without supervision.

I turned to her and hollered, “Rat! Rat! Rat!”

I expected her to get mad and yell back

or call my mom and tell on me,

but she laughed.

It was my first taste of rebelliousness

looking and feeling ridiculous.

Of course I stomped off,

which is what she wanted.