Thursday, 30 August 2012

Welcome Home


Three days from home. Left in the summer. Got back in the fall.
On the street where we live, silence in our car.
A boy waits at the bus stop. He’s maybe six feet tall.
Looks familiar. Do you know him?
He looks at the black ground.
Doesn’t look up.
A red line, like blood
running from ear
to throat, travelling
the white country
of his neck.

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