Partial Pictures

He was just a little boy. So acute with his momma's frown. Like tattoo ink waiting in the needle for a break in the skin. He was just a boy. Digging his hands into the dirt. Wearing her every word under his fingernails. In little brown rainbows that never let him wish.

Just a boy.

Now a man.

Looking for momma in the mirror.

Windows like fire engines screaming their alarm. To no one who's listening. Looking out. And out. And out again.

House of card building him. Until he can't breathe. Trying not to collapse. Trying to be that boy she almost loved. Turning an eye to the camera. As it casts him in that moment. In the loom of that gaze. In those clothes. Wearing the future before the scars.

Just a boy. Asking when. Or if. He'll ever grow old.

Old enough.

To love that child.