Dirty face with dark, hollow eyes,
Looked no more than about twelve.
The breeze brought his sour smell
Blowing through the screen door.
Baggy pants shredded, knees out,
In desperate need of mending.
He wanted work, but food mostly.
Janey made him wash at the well
Then fed him cornbread and cold milk.
The boy finished off the afternoon
Helping Sam cut fence posts.
She could see from the porch
That his ax strokes were weak,
Ineffective, feeble.
He spoke not a word but please,
A little more, thank you, and all right,
Then fell asleep in his empty pie plate.
Sam carried him to the porch
Wrapped him in an old blanket and
A worn pair of overalls for a pillow.
Next morning, the porch was empty.
Boy, blanket and overalls
Gone west in the dawn light.
Janey stared down the road.
Somewhere a mamma’s
Grieving for her boy, she said.
I hope nobody steals the
Dollar I put in his pocket.
