POEMS


Buck

What’s it like for a kid who treads water,
Never being able to put his feet down?

How tiring does it become not knowing if there’s really a bottom?

Where do I go in that state of numbness,
When my limbs can no longer feel
And disparity is fought with one arm tied behind my back?

Are opportunities missed…
Cloaked by blindness and a queasy gut…
Do I make bad choices because I am dumb?

Does the sky not fall cuz it’s up too high?
Do leaves come down from the trees cuz I am bad?

Who’s such a big shot that made the rule that says: “Boys don’t cry, feel, or touch?”

Whoever it was,
I want to hit them