Who are you, boy?
You'll always be boy to me
You ain't nothing
You're your momma's
You're your poppa's
but that's two things
because they ain't each other's
anymore.
Who are you, boy
anymore?
Are you your hands
their angles, their weight and color
Which side?
The open side
or the tops
that's two different things.
Or are you your eyes
folding over those hands
the almost pupil-shade irises
their almost somewhere else tilt
difficult to find the way in
difficult to find the way out.
Are you the warm teeth in my imagination
or the cold snow we last stood on?
Apr 8, 2010
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