Learning to Hide

When our dad is not at home
we preside over one another
by seniority
dispensing injustice
the way he does
the youngest
obliged to be content
with lording it over dolls, dogs
and smaller neighborhood kids.

But when he turns up, we scatter
by bike, trike, even roller skates
sometimes hiding at Bobby's house.
Never far enough.
Not one of us gets away
without bruises and scars
and various name-brand neuroses.
I, however, am the only one

disappearing inside myself
like day shrouded by night
hiding in plain sight.