First Grade Autobiography

— after Donika Kelly's "Fourth Grade Autobiography"

We live in Montgomery, Alabama.
Our backyard is crowned
with a prehistoric tree
wrapped in vines.

My favorite things:
brother, that monstrous
tree, and dad towing us
on his bike. We marvel
up hills, at his muscles.

Once mom screams she's lost
our baby sister, who turns up
swallowed by greenery and dark
of under the deck.

We don't believe in Santa, we
don't believe in monsters.
We believe the devil hungers
to steal our tender hearts.

Everything swarms

of humidity and cockroaches
and mosquitos. I slap my legs
and watch blood run in tears.

Once my brother and I build air
balloons with black trash
bags and laundry vent
exhales to float
beyond our tree.

We are too young to name
escape, or its roots
or the berries of our other
tree—how they kiss
our teeth.

A version of this poem first appeared in Appalachian Review.