I watched and learned too many times…
Because I have a friend who knows all about death
saw it with my own eyes, as we poked the body
“it,” said disgruntly let him win on things we argued over
over gender, over sexuality as the waste made
the body morph into the unrecognizable.
What mattered to me, as we stared at the dismemberment of a self being lifted out the river, was holding somone’s hand. I didn’t want to hold his when I have on several occassions. On days we’ve kissed, on days our parents thought we were so cute together, because his hands were as filthy as mine, and he wanted to keep a namesake, when I had let go of all traditional.
As I ran through the swamp, I ran home to my mother hoping she would recognize me
tell me who I’m from, who I followed, I found that she was perplexed as me and that I should ask her father about her origin. She had forgotten he was dead like the rest of them.
8 thoughts on “ScareCrow”
I very much enjoyed reading this.
Thanks and welcome!
Such a complex set of weavings you make with your words…very much enjoyed reading it.
oh, good! good, good, good – difficult to excerpt phrases or pieces to praise as it is all praiseworthy, and all three sections for different reasons – great work, CCY
i’ve come back to read this several times, and it is outstanding, brilliant, evocative to say the least
wonderful beginning, and ending too. it feels so complete, and to see death from a childs eyes must be in fact one of the most complete sort of experiences startling and humbling and frightening as it may be…