LITTLE BOY

I’m just a little boy with broken arms,

a little boy with a lump of sugar in his pocket

and machines in his hands. I will never again feel

my arms around you; they’re no good broken.

I try to remember sometimes

the way I fear the little things that keep me going.

I don’t fear the floors covered with

horse dung, but I fear the machines.

(November 2, 2011)