Deon Robinson
a monochrome boyhood
Madness, too, can be accumulative.
—Hieu Minh Nguyen
I can’t remember if I am remembering right
but I do remember Ian,
the impatient bus ride home
where he showed us his sharp secret,
stolen steel from his own kitchen.
A wasp’s nest of knives hidden in his backpack,
nestled in the front pocket.
He behaved fatherly towards them,
the way all boys are with hand-me-down weapons,
protective of his violent golden ticket
or I guess silver.
A monochrome boyhood
all because Uriel stole his phone
and we too grown to ask
when we got our short tempers,
when we can smile at the dirty work
that is none of our fault
and yet all of our consequences.
**
Ian is walking through Webster one day
only to have his lower leg bone shattered
by two men with baseball bats, but Ian is the kind
of guy who rehearses knife attacks to rock music.
He comes to school limping gloriously,
we open doors for him and help him up the stairs.
A war hero in the street's clothing,
how broken bones have always demanded attention,
a marriage of paparazzi and triage.
Suddenly, I want to be a murderer.
Suddenly, I want to join the crucible.
Suddenly, I press my hands to my chest cavity,
and hear a wasp’s nest.
—Hieu Minh Nguyen
I can’t remember if I am remembering right
but I do remember Ian,
the impatient bus ride home
where he showed us his sharp secret,
stolen steel from his own kitchen.
A wasp’s nest of knives hidden in his backpack,
nestled in the front pocket.
He behaved fatherly towards them,
the way all boys are with hand-me-down weapons,
protective of his violent golden ticket
or I guess silver.
A monochrome boyhood
all because Uriel stole his phone
and we too grown to ask
when we got our short tempers,
when we can smile at the dirty work
that is none of our fault
and yet all of our consequences.
**
Ian is walking through Webster one day
only to have his lower leg bone shattered
by two men with baseball bats, but Ian is the kind
of guy who rehearses knife attacks to rock music.
He comes to school limping gloriously,
we open doors for him and help him up the stairs.
A war hero in the street's clothing,
how broken bones have always demanded attention,
a marriage of paparazzi and triage.
Suddenly, I want to be a murderer.
Suddenly, I want to join the crucible.
Suddenly, I press my hands to my chest cavity,
and hear a wasp’s nest.
Biography
Deon Robinson is a writer from Bronx, New York. He is a Junior at Susquehanna University, where he was the recipient of the Janet C. Weis Prize for Literary Excellence for his writing. His work can be found in Glass’ Poets Resist Series, Homology Lit, Honey and Lime Lit, and Occulum Journal, among others. Follow his misadventures and let him know what your favorite poems are on Twitter @djrthepoet.
|