That time that the neighbours found your car
the rhythm of a child’s feet slapping the earth
telling it
it ain’t worth much
not much today
it ain’t worth a dime
not at tomorrow’s rate
telling it
telling it true
all along the burn dead trail
the silence in the arteries
weapons line the corridors
kept anonymous by
a clean employee
controlled by eyes
the expression
the catalogue of the ways
that she looks at him
go tell it
tell it the truth
no decorate no lies
Locked inside, outside of rain
accept a weapon
without instruction
revolting against it
only that
is what your parents did.