Sunday, May 24, 2009

born after. (little boy on the train)



Mark is the middle child


Old enough to ride the train home
from school at 5

Young enough to get lost when his sister
becomes too annoyed to bother


His hand scarred from too rough play time
Fiddle with her white (now grey) Jansport
She taps on her phone with no service underground
Relentlessly trying to block his whining out


His sneakers
Jordan’s aged too tight to be comfortable
Pants big enough so they'll fit 2 years from now

His eyes hold tears he will never let her see
I bet you his barely existent father told him to be a man
After he's complained of her taunting and hitting
Bet you he told him that big boys don't cry when his brother
Blasted his gameboy headphones too loud
So he wouldn't hear his request to play

His feet dangle from the edge of the seat
Like forgotten children dangle
on the borderline of life, death, and visibility
In Africa or New York


His hair unkempt
Tangles with the confused expression he wears across his face
The sleeves of his jacket
So dirty they blend in with the mistake he will think he was born to be


He shakes his head
Up and down with fury
With hidden sniffles
Between his two siblings

Shaking as if to say
"Don't forget me"
"Don't forget me"
"Don't forget me"
The problem is

As soon as I leave this train

I will.

Forget.


-riv-

3 comments:

Mocha' said...

Amazing as always!
It's the kind of poetry that stays with you.
Love it!

-Q. said...

I love that!!!
I'll put 500 one that luv.
I wont forget, that.
peace-n-luv -Q.

Majik1987 said...

mmm. Oh Eri, u make me miss New York so much u have no idea.