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hugmobile
How
downers
danceoff
Generations

"kite "

I just found this poem I wrote during my employment as a counselor for emotionally disturbed children. Most the children were abused terribly. Some, before they were even born. I considered their parents murderers...their little lives were taken from them before they started.

Toughened
by his crib of thorns,
bruised
little boy
pulls a plastic kite-
flying feebly
from a twelve foot
string—
aloft only while
the little legs run
full speed
in a windless field.

 


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