A Pale Boy; A Splintered Frame

A pale boy with blue eyes sits on a
brown back porch,
holding head in hands that
have gone numb
-
the full humid weight of the
sky tugs and pulls
down every recent day;
he sits on the steps of his
secret refuge,
the vacant, dilapidated house
-
as mosquitoes ravenously
persist,
and uncertainty hovers above
the trees,
inside the bulbous
gray
rain
clouds
-
a gust of wind opens the sky,
gutters start to swell with the
advancing rain
now intermittent,
now pouring down,
filling potholes and ditches
-
blades of grass luminate
a vibrant green;
pebbles darken in hue -
an acquired luster -
and release
their burden of heat;
the mosquitoes dissipate as
though dissolved
-
the soaked floorboards creak
under the first weight
set upon them in two years…
the boy walks through the
remains of rooms,
under the half-caved roof
and emerges from the
splintered frame
of the front door
-
he steps into the full deluge
and is running,
splashing through the puddles
with shimmering blue eyes,
and a magnificent white smile.