
Waiting to be Discharged from the Maternity Ward
Consider the eyes of a boy who has the heart to cram a Black Cat firecracker down the throat of a Gecko. Consider his hands, the giddy rush as he tries and tries to light the match that will ice his blood. Consider his laughter, the sound of explosion the slivers of lizard that land in his hair. Consider my son, hours old, bruised from the battle of breaking away from me as I consider how to keep him from stealing my lighter, from sneaking out back, my love in his pocket, M-80 in his hand.
1 reply on “Waiting to be Discharged from the Maternity Ward”
Powerful!