chills

moving through

a whistling cascade

of wet leaves,

the teasing wind robs his

legs of security

under grasping

branches missing

only rope. thinking

in sharp origami,

pieces of a shattered

mirror on copper pavement

littered with pipes

that may have

been his own

rake the shattered

kaleidoscope in a

steaming brain

of his one year old son,

the gentle pressure

of questioning hands—

a wife with eyes ringed

in loving exhaustion,

sleeping on a pulpy

mattress discolored

from burns, and the man

with silver caps for

teeth smiling just like

a biting clock. as a car

arrives at the next light

there will be no more

excuses. later, after

the groceries are

spilled and a headline

is made, a young

man will save it in a

scrapbook in his dorm

knowing his father

cared about only one thing.