ISSUE: Winter 2004
So what if he was old enough to slough her off?
The night of her news he made an exception—
letting his mother wrap herself around him,
holding on. OK. Enough.
But all along, despite that word, survivor,
flashing its high-fives, he knew, and stood apart—
hands in pockets, shoulders alert.
Spring’s drums thrummed in him as they did
in other kids. All the more reason to crouch
inside his music in his pounding room,
so when they had to call him out,
at last, he was prepared—everything
in there smashed—and he couldn’t care less
whose job it was to clean up all the mess.
