Oh dear god, what happened to her son?
They haven’t said who shot him because they’ll never really have to.
They’re still piecing things together,
still questioning the witnesses,
everything’s a process, the process is a circus,
I’m still waiting for his name,
I want to recognize the taste.
My friend John was there,
more of a friend of a friend,
He described the way he went so specifically limp,
the way his torso doubled over,
his eyes so impossibly ripe,
and what he started saying just seemed to stop making any sense.
but I heard him,
and I still do,
they all make the same agonizing sound.
Young bodies all crack and contort the same way.
when they fall against the pavement;
it’s getting harder to differentiate.
I’m groping toward conclusions,
I’m exhausted, I’m trying to gain perspective
on why I’m being led back into the basement.
My sister-in-law always has an alibi,
a story or a place to be,
of an inevitability her parents warned her of since she could barely speak.
That was never me; That will never be.
I just want to understand without deviating from my place,
I want to be him noticing his shirt sticking to his stomach,
her stuttering in disbelief as she falls backward onto the yard,
their friends at school who sprint across the blacktop to reach the safety of their parents’ cars,
their older brothers,
their swimming coaches,
their family friends,
their presents at home
all vertical timelines, all the bluest scars.
Someone is asking you if any of this is real,
someone is telling you they love you too.
released January 26, 2015
Recording and Mixing, Chris Vandeviver of Brass Palace
Mastering, Bill Henderson of Azimuth Mastering
all rights reserved