ever standing
body lithe, strong
trained to strike
too dashing for peeling paint
old verandas
slow-paced hamlet
waiting in country town
place to whizz past
road to tourist hub
how does his tale read
did he pay
for assault
struck the frame
holder of *****
spawning breath
cold fury
for scenes of his mother
thrown down
stain his every stance
grabbing mail swiftly
ahead of arrival
panther muscles
no more the crouching lad
shuddering
her screams
bounce off walls
as mother's body slumps
broken bottle scars
left to clean up the mess
as he leaves for school
forage into
fictional possibility -
penned
with deep respect
for David
of village
post office