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."
