Escaped

Paul saw a boy he never knew.
A turn-around memory
of an instant before shadow
accelerated a blur and mist.
No personal definition—
hair color or eye color or name.
Just a red and white striped t-shirt
and pale skin with freckles.

No more detail arrives from a re-collection
of long ago moments,
no matter how Paul tries to assemble them,
jigsaw them, collage them.

Always his efforts feel the disruption
of the passing train’s silvery blur,
squealing steel wheels grating the track
the disorientation skew
of his battering heartbeat bulging veins,
upturned eyes view the top of his cloudy head,
the ground rushing up to cradle him.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

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