Mind His Swift Arm Daughter

• Michael Steyger, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2009

Somber as a midnight sigh
Like smoke off the pyre
Like hair off the head.

Our friends hung high above
The door, hanging on rusty hopes
The wolves were gathering, I hope
To see them off we’ll need the keys.

You can’t think this way, off
In the blue horizon, unless it was you,
The berated child under the careful watch
Of Orion and Mensa: one purpose, regretted.

Mind his swift arm daughter,
He means to see you off.

He is no son of mine screams
The stereotype, Berated child,
We lost our hope at the right road.