It's dawn
        and I'm raking the yard and thinking
        jesus I am

        fifty-fucking-six and still
        won't say
        what I need to say-

        when suddenly
        BAP!
        my parents drop

        from the trees
        like puppets
        dragging

        their dead toes
        through my hair-while back
        in the house the boy

        pounds out boogie-woogie
        on the parlor grand
        and never hears the door

        creak
        as God
        slips in-

        Little Boy!
        and hurling the rake
        I scramble madly

        for the house but my
        old knees lock and christ!
        I'm down-just as the kid

        roars into Honky Tonk Train
        and over my head
        the puppets

        jig and judder
        -Little Boy!-
        and round us pale

        angels rake up
        darkness into piles
        to burn

Copyright © Jed Allen, 2001.  All Rights Reserved.