Fred Aiken Writing

the war path of childhood etches itself into skin
that never wants to fully heal

and looks sunburned whenever examined up close
what could be melanoma, but i’m no doctor

i think, though, that it should probably be look at rather than covered
up in long sleeves soaked in someone else’s blood

dripping down the sidewalk where skateboards pile high
into a mangled pyramid reaching out to an undefined zenith

pointing feverishly at power point slides meant to capture youth
and show the future, or a past

riding as fast and demurely as possible down a hill that redefines gravity
until the moment stops…and bones tear asunder