Beautiful timorous eyes
(red through the whites
and shimmering salt down pallid cheeks)
looked up like a runt
at the blade of an axe.

I held the boy close
like a mother
collecting the stray ends of children
and gath'ring them into her warmth.
He took hold,

And like a child ought to,
he clung to me
savouring nearness and breath
reliquishing now for the comfort of never-
choking on force-fed truth.

I felt the knot in my throat
quiver.
A feeling of purpose
paired with revoltion
entwined and lodged in my windpipe.

Beautiful timorous eyes
(red through the whites
and shimmering salt down pallid cheeks)
looked up like a runt
at the blade of an axe.

The feeling of pawn and protector
never had ever been shifted
so fast.

04/20/2004

Posted on 04/21/2004
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