The poet took to the outdoors
saying she hated buildings.
Her dreams gave her away —
horrors galore. Where are
you going to hide, little girl?
A dark, dank cellar? A
dusty, dry attic? Would
you? How about open
fields, mountain preserves,
winding creeks, desert
dunes? How about
a halcyon view of what
critters see as the geography
of struggle, fight, flight,
death and drama — nature?
Maybe that’s why so many
there want to crawl in the
wall, hide in the building’s
attic and hunker down in the
dungeon cellar. I guess it
all depends on where you
were violated, which deter-
mines what and where you
hated. So, we now benefit
from the poet’s escape and
explorations of God’s creations
while we wait for critters to
comment on the safety found
in plumbing.