They stand over me
deciding what to do
The older boy with the stick
jabs at my underbelly
to see if I bend
I have pulled into myself
pretending I am not here
If they leave me on my back
I will become stone
a part of these woods
that does not move forever
that will outlast small menaces
Soon they will be called home
to greasy steaks and tater tots
To their domain
of blurred screens
in dusty trailer parks
still not knowing
how things work
On my back and defenseless
I am everything
that escapes
Valerie Anthony
Contents | Mudlark No. 1
The Upper Hand