Meeting the Bar: black & blue but....

street art, Richmond. VA

crickets & hay muffle the skritch of gravel,
his feet traveling south, kicking dust
that clings like cats to his Spiderman PJs

No, no, NO, is all he's saying til i step
in front, whisper break the obsidian night
& he cracks like hot grease spitting fists
in black & blue---jab, hook, hay maker
with fourteen year old fists & he curses
with such fury, froth like waves break
on his lips & he hits & he hits as we roll
to the ditch, his tears, hot lead, drip
on my hand, his mom pulls up tires slide
& van door open we get him in, the speedometer
gets bends as it rises & somehow he opens
the door again, asphalt whizzing, hiss-
ing, dashes yellow bleeding in a single line

i wrap him tight to the floor board, old candy
crust, grit in the carpet, wet dog flavor by
smell & he howls, let me go, LeT mE GO!!
we crash the hospital, security, SeCURE-ity
hold him while the needle sinks but does
nothing, we are linemen on Sunday, throw-
ing bodies against each other, him to escape
& i to keep in, the minute hand passing
midnite, 2 AM & another needle, butt, but

helpless, hopeless, tormented & angry
he's NOT here, in full retreat to age 4, the place where
his mother took him when she stole him, a crack
house, crACKed house & who knows what happened
only that skin draped bones to make a home
for nits to live when they found him & she,
she---

found him again this week, made the same
promises & told him she wanted him back,
to be-little & make herself feel better/pleasure
see, bullies are not limited to school yards,
but hide behind locked doors, call it home
& invasion of privacy when someone peeks
in, while they spin membranes like sCramBLED
eggs then add a kiss to remind you they love you
and are only doing this because they do---

(i wake in the bathroom, warmth leaks from
my nose & lip, tile cold on my skin, they are
laughing, laUGHing, LAughING, yes i know
my own, i know my---)

and after six hours, i am covered in piss,
back twisted in knots & muscle bruised but he
knows & tomorrow when he wakes won't remember
a thing, but looking across the linoleum,
passed the white linen to the institution-
al(l) hard plastic chair---i will be there,
in jeans & tie dye STAR WARS t-shirt, black
& blue, but still smiling & we'll walk
the walk again---where crickets & hay muffle
the skritch of gravel, 'cept this time north,
black & blue, but still smiling, both
black & blue, but---

At dverse Poets today, we are thinking & writing, tracing pathways our membranes take us, down train tracks across the cortex--ha, ha, confused yet? get in the stream, but stay conscious you will just have to tune in at 3 PM when Victoria yells all aboard. smiles. 

Also submitted for Poetry Jam  for Bully.