I see you, trash child

synthetic dyes coat your tongue

as you reach

another ravenous hand

into the neon bag

numbed to the riot

inside your guts

lulled by the incessant drone

of news and commercials

jingles and sirens

cameras and lights

I see you, crash child

grease on your fingers and

stains on your shirt

wary of silence

searching for the key

to existence

in the chalk outline

of a body on the sidewalk

dusty and white

I see you, hurt child

reeking of mold

and ripe with sweat

wild-limbed and bitter

at the loss of something

you’d never been given

I see you, dirt child

path touched by the moon

your sinuses cleared

by the smell of loam and moss

seduced by the acoustics

of the open night sky

riding the high

delivered by stars

the way healthy skin glows

even when showing old scars

and the defiance it takes

to escape unforgiven.


–k.b. 11252017