As morning splits the prairie open with cold streaks of orange and blue, plastic-capped Dads pull frozen warriors into frozen room. Noisy weekend temple. Our womb. Shark circle in menacing formation but the Hawks are dangerous.
Broken in battle, frozen air scrapes at throats, cold from trying to scream over the echo. My brothers and I are fucking untouchable.
Because the Hawks are dangerous.
He's the kid who showed up to hockey practice five minutes before it started. with his helmet on and his laces tied. And his dad carried his bag, and they left right away so he wouldn’t have to take off his shirt.
He didn’t laugh like anyone else, or at the same things, his skin was too yellow, it clung to the skeletal frame.
all rights reserved