They climb the rust belt stairs
Boots heavy on threaded steel
The father walks ahead and
the young boy follows as
the smoke from his father’s cigarette
mingles with the cold prairie air.
They stop in front of their motel room
Father leaning over the railing ledge
Starting at the parking lot below
His eyes two pools of midnight.
The boy looks up at his father and asks
when they’ll be going home.
His father turns his head and looks down
at the boy and sees
a flicker in his pale blue eyes.
I’ve been trying to go home for ten years, son.
He drops the cigarette over the railing
And it dances through the night air
Sparks against the asphalt
and burns out.
Cail Judy is the co-founder of the Wolf Mountain Writing Collective. He finds joy in bringing wayward poems, sad bastard lyrics and weird stories into this world. He aspires to thunderheads, smoke and distant lightning on the page.
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