Morph

I

The cruelty of boys
has always been retrievable
and regret the vehicle for reconciliation
There when the harried mind reclines
and cradles the most common things,
a traffic light, fingers tapping,
another day burdened and bored
Thoughts fall away for an instant
and in that space of nothingness,
oh, yes, you will remember

II

He came to practice with his bent back
and the wide gawk of his eyes,
teeth jammed in his crooked mouth,
a Chiclet explosion between dumpling lips
You assailed him with your spit and pranks
and he never said a word, not a provoking glance
He just wanted to play football,
to run and cheer and celebrate
his wild-horse heart

III

But you culled him
there in the full light of day,
separated him from the rest,
told him to shrink like winter
and die with the wretched spastics
Leave the trappings to the favourable ones,
blond, perfect and freckled,
those boys stopped at the red light
thrumming away the loom of him
in the rear-view mirror