A house key suspended
on his steel bead necklace
bends the boy's head
to a stooped slow walk,
slouching towards bedlam
and the beast.
A repeated string of numbers,
careful choreographed walk,
no cracks and skipped primes.
The magic sum of prayers
to an abandoned god.
Ten yards off muscles tighten
and senses heighten.
He pauses on the porch
hand to handle-
on the door between
flight and fight,
father and sun,
safety and surrender.
Hail Mary full of grace
look at that boy's face,
why have you forsaken him?
The door opens
The door closes
Things fall apart.
© "Neon Veil" (All rights reserved)
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| Key chain © Jennifer Phillips |
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