Eleanor Rector
Lost Boys
i. for Eduardo, wherever you are, if you still are
ii. for all the children lost in the violent streets of Chicago
you list the ways / in which you cannot / love / or be loved / as if there’s ever been a difference / we are halfway through the depths of this forest / and if we turn back now / we’ll never find our footing / this path already dampened by dusk /
so you tell me / of the lost boys / how at birth you each were sung into an oubliette / a labyrinth without solution / you tell me how you’ve walked these esplanades into eternity / begging for escape / lost in this forest, you name each tree / count the rings / and promise one day / to boast as many scars /
you whisper now / of the lost boys / forever twisted in shadowed crossfire / their last sudden thrash burned into your retinas / you murmur the names lost in gun-smoke and the flash-bang / their faces lit with angelic catastrophes / you tell me how you, too, pray for the sainthood / the holy moment when you know you’ve escaped / where your murmuring lips pray / to a god you’ve never been sure of / although the devil haunts your every daydream / rosary wrapped so tightly around your wrist / that your fingers slow to numb /
you remind me that soon / your body will succumb to the violence / gentle but demanding / you list the ways / that this is better than feeling at all //
