Ryan Robson-Bluer

Even, now

The boys on the street ran with pellet guns

cul-de-sacs mirrored in their wild eyes wet

noses sycamore seeds lodged in their hair

gravelly knees forefingers tucked tight around

triggers like they’d been taught to hold

weapons they’d shoot you if you were playing

or not two shots to the knee a hot red colon

and wet hot tears under the living-room light.

 

In the blue-black wash of teatime, I watch them still

run rampant in the street, as guns turn to sticks,

turn to tin cans, turn to stones, ‘til they turn and

run home, beating at the back gate: burning,

full. I clack on my pen and begin my resurgence,

stretching out words, counting my bullets.