In the back yard of the half of the duplex
designated 401 A Frost Woods road,
there was a tree that served as a spaceship.
As a little girl, I never played dress up,
instead, my best friend Julia
and I would play Power Rangers
(or pirates, or astronauts)
We climbed up that tree,
testing to see how high was too high
(determined by how insistently
my mother screamed for us to get down).
We shaved the heads of our Barbie dolls
and melted their faces into grotesque masks
chasing each other around the yard
with vapid, deformed zombies.
We would pick up the largest branches
that had fallen from the tree
and have epic sword fights–
we battled each other
and created worlds so fantastic
that no preconceptions
of who we should be
could touch us
in that spaceship
of a tree.