Pictures of a Childhood

I would have never cut the cat’s fur
under the summer sun
had I known she’d slice my arm
during her panicked run

Her shorn tail giving me 
the middle finger
as she fled the savagery
my scissors did bring her.

I would have never fought the teacher
in the kindergarten room
had she known it was a zit
and not chosen to assume

that I had the chickenpox,
crimson mark glaring
like the traditional bindi 
Hindu women are wearing

smack dab on the forehead.
Had I known Ms. Johnson was stronger
I wouldn’t have grabbed the mailboxes
in an attempt to prolong her

from taking me to the principal
to confirm the round red dot
was, through snot and tears, 
what I claimed it was not.

I would have never eaten the perch
my dad caught and fried
licking my lips of breadcrumbs
before I almost died

If only I had known that 
the inner white flesh contained
stringy black rivers 
of once living fish veins.

Oh, if I had never felt pain,
fear, disgust or dismay
I would have never learned
what I now know today.