On the Brink

Slow suck down of the sea,

Sun had swung, stealing away

Waterfalls of retreating water numbed his brain

Wave after wave

Dog-eared and scratched,

The Boy's Book of Ships on the shelf by the bed

Skin of the body, scurfy, stiff.

"Got a ship in your pocket?"

Sugar and cream,

Brown, vulnerable flesh

"Kill the pig! Cut his throat!"

Tied-down terror

"Kill the pig! Bash him in!"

Desire to hurt overmastering

Wave after wave

Smiled bitterly, "Just a game"

"You want a real pig, because you have to kill him."

After wave after wave

"Just a game."