How I didn’t fall a Victim of the Man, (his memory)
I stand still, bewildered,
as my mom hugs me. The same hug she gave me
a long ago seem weird, like a bad witch’s grin.
I let my eyes follow her to her car and vanishes.
In my room, I stare blankly at the computer, pondering
about our a month-long part. Free, at last, from her
yelling; do your work, study, clean your mess.
I run my hand over the arm with ever existing black&blue;
they’ll disappear with her absence, only to return with her back.
Hey, join me, my crony, the missing boy, coxes.
Where are you?
you know the basement, the dark one, the kind man’s.
I dig in my memory of the chat.
My smile mingles with the smoke from my mouth; two elves in the dark outland.
Later, while packing, I saw her at my room door,
startling me. I knew it. she shakes her head. Son, don’t.
Her eyes like those of
a girl’s whose beloved pet is dying.
I left my backpack in the closet, muttering in my mind,
Since when, I don’t know, I hadn’t seen the bruise on my arm;
her voice, rustling bamboos.
That someday came only in my bad dream.
©Byung A. Fallgren