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Apr 2013
The Boy
“A superb young boy and a dismal excuse for a man,” said the pastor.

“A stupid baby, my stupid baby,” his mother wept.

“A handsome neighbor and a charming thief,” whispered Mary-Jane.

“A sheepish grin and lips fresh with duplicity,” wrote the poet.

“A savvy talker amongst witless pawns,” smirked his presence.

“I’m okay,” he lied one last time.

His absence was the last to leave, and it laughed, it laughed.

The Lie
To his mouth it was zesty sweet, like lemonade on a steaming summer’s day.

To his ears, it was funny little fact or a joke, a twisted truth.

But to his mother’s it was a headliner..

Mary-Jane’s thought it was a haunting reality..

At least until the last time they ignored his cries, declined the truth but swallowed the lies.

The Cry
On Monday they heard it all the way down the block.

On Tuesday it only reached the half-point.

On Wednesday only the neighbors heard.

On Thursday it didn’t leave the house.

On Friday it had no time to leave his mouth.

The Wolf**
The wolf belched and slipped backed into the forest.
Tala AlGhamdi
Written by
Tala AlGhamdi
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