Daphne

Spring.

Circa 2005.

I’m on the roof

like I know I shouldn’t be,

but who’s to know

that I’m not cleaning

like a good girl?

I could blame this itch

I get in the spring

on whoever bought me

D'aulaire's Book of Greek Myths.

.

Since I read it

when I was about six,

I haven’t been able

to convince myself

that I’m not a nymph.