walls

when i was ten
i slept in a room where
lying in bed
i could touch both walls
with outstretched arms

imagine a room that ten-year-old arms measure
where i scraped my knuckles
on the sandpaper rough plaster
unintentionally while fending off monsters
intentionally while yearning to feel

it was my room
but it wasn’t
because it had no door
no fourth wall where a door should be
so i couldn’t turn the lock
on the world

ten-year-old's clothes don’t take much room
so they filled my drawers
with my brothers’ socks
and underwear and
they came to get them in
the dark hours of the morning
through the door that wasn’t there
“shhh don’t wake bob.”
he’s sleeping soundly
with his blanket and his bear.

but ten-year-old eyes see
and hands touch and ears hear
and ten-year-old boys have thoughts
these walls cannot contain, dreams
that if you knew
you would shut the door to
keep them inside but
you can’t
because there is no door
and
these arms will grow
longer and
stronger than
walls