Sunday, December 22, 2013

poem in process

From inside his shoes




His hand going up
signaling STOP,
ineffectively.
Her voice piercing skin, quills
scripting down to boy's memory
when he forgot to close the chickens.
His father waking him at night
beating and beating his lower back
'til vertebra fused.
Hurt in the aim of words
as soon as he entered the trailer.
He had to hunker down


mh

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