Stone #5

 

Flat, light brown, shale; the jagged knife of justice

(Avenge, revenge, again and again):

stone #4 is an offering to the malicious gods

of seventh-grade boys,

whose only fates were dead mothers and

weak fathers.

And so I wished for Roger Vanek to die

(no no not to die

     the bird murdered, the murdered bird,

     the bird I killed with a gun; 

     whirled BBs, two at a time

     –to make sure I killed–

     I murdered and murdered the bird

, but only–laughedatlaughedatlaughedat–or any number of the nameless, doomed fates of seventh-grade boys enacted from malicious gods,

with favored stones collected (a temple perhaps? Rattling my pocket and feeling the space between them dashed my hopes)

the words flowed from my mouth,

the anger flowed from my heart,

in a language of an alien type.

But still I did nothing.

~

So my wish died its own death.  Since I had not blood-stained hands from sacrificial lambs, I accelerated towards my own impotence, a reaction acting unacting;

and so I saw myself clearly–a boy collecting rocks and grumbling about a bully who made fun of his father.

I walked on, not knowing where, but following the tug of my wounded pride to guide me.

Salineras_de_Maras,_Maras,_Perú,_2015-07-30,_DD_03-07_PAN

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s