His eyes ride deep in their sockets
and glaze with the film of his intention
as he quietly reels
*
He laid on a sandy bank of a lazy river
naming cloud after cloud with Zach
until the sun sank
*
His cell door unlocks, its
heavy steel "cluck"
strikes his chest like a fist
*
The scissors too small
in his unsure gorilla hand, guided
to cut just there, between the clamps
*
The door chugs slowly open,
doggedly single-minded, hanging
on its inescapable track
*
That black and white photograph
at the beach with his youngest son’s eyes
just for him
*
He steps through naked,
having already
searched himself thorough
*
That time she let her own tears
fall onto his chest -
utterly visible
*
They dress him orange and tie
his hands behind him,
cobble-iron his legs
*
The frames start to speed past
random in order
glimpses and snippets
*
His escort steps follow
only the dull shuffle-jangle
and silent breathing
*
And just before it unspooled…
his saviour hands, held guilty
in the cold air
*
He takes no credit
He feels no remorse as he ends
He only wishes it was longer
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