they took me to the dermatologist,
when I was in 3rd grade.
she looked at my legs,
slightly swollen at the ankles
scabbed, blistered, bleeding calves.
she asked me if I liked to play in the grass
and some sort of long word to my mom
but turned to me and said
“you’re allergic to bug bites”
my dad told me my blood is too sweet
and pretended to bite my arm
“and so is your skin,”
he said.
so I learned to stay away from bugs,
but somehow they creep back in through my web.
before I know it
I’m scratching my leg
and dead bugs are lying next to my feet.
but they haven’t left completely,
no, I can’t count the number of scars
on my legs.
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