the boy in the bathroom
cloud high in the mountains
far below is the road
green signs give direction
if only one could read them
through the distance and the mist-
the feeling is left
leftwards towards blessed normal
the nourishment of solids-
but the way is convoluted, unsure
a fluorescent hallway
a public washroom
of tight mosaic tiles
of grout
stressed and stained.
there, handcuffed to the sink
is a boy
watched by a boy
who thinks he is in control.
the feeling is no
not me not here
the cloud, the road, destiny
the beckonings of compulsion
say I must, must leave
but the truth is I've arrived
must sit
on the scummy tiles
must listen
for the stories
hidden for ages
behind young mouths
sewn so tightly shut.
2 comments:
Dark, JR. Very dark. I guess you're not as much of an optimist as I thought you were.
Particularly like the sewn shut mouths. - b
So well written and with quite a twist. At first I thought it was going to be comical. Then comes the turn finding the boy isn't free at all. This one pulls at the heart of anyone whose even heard about human trafficking, or watched Saw.
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