Stab


forgotten:
a dusty attic that contains
a cute outfit purchased to
impress on the first day of
school
and
a toy f-16 fighter jet, never
played with, still in the box,
someone had grown ‘too old
for toys’ two weeks before
receiving it as a birthday gift.

last friday
i got lost in a strange part of
town, all the houses looked the
same, all the people seemed so
happy, i said

“if i could go back and change things”

and i didn’t start to cry, i started to
hurry, i started to sweat, i imagined
the tiny beads of sweat poking me
in the back were knives, the tiny little
knives of tiny little assassins.

Darrell Epp