“Eighth”

walked into the tin can,

there I found a blood bath,

he hit him in the head, said

“you don’t even hit hard”

perhaps I’d feel safer

in a sleeve of saltines 

metal shouting loud 

I didn't know if I didn't want 

to be there, or if I didn't want 

to be

but I thought of how the

hills cried seeing me leave 

and I knew there was a 

home somewhere on earth

and I knew, there are hearts

that are good.

ML, March ‘25.