sometimes I wish they'd break things
delicate glass windows in old buildings
something that makes a sound
–any sound–
or smoke frantically and fuck up their lungs
from early on
at least the
invincibility juvenile
misbehavior often provides
would shelter them for longer
(
when hunger hits like a blade
to their spines, their violence is mute
like their hunger itself)
people often call them cancer kids
multiplying from god-knows-where
just swarming around in clusters
until something breaks
every face is going to be new,
every set of desperate eyes
(
looking up and begging)
even if for every pair of bare feet on stinging-hot asphalt
two more are born and disposed of
even if every smoke-faced girl
might be an unborn daughter of mine
sometimes I think they can see
when I watch them walk away
sometimes I think they can see
when I'm begging too