Homes Kid (For Glenn)

 This time I know
  I will never see him again.
  For a time he played the game,
  like a child experimenting with blocks,
  building towers and fortresses
  but never bridges.
  Bridges are hard.
  Invariably his feet would slip,
  before he found 
  the acceptance parents had denied
  and other children refused him.
  Acceptance he couldn't recognise
  even when it came, like waves
  gentling in his life.
  Institutions, foster homes,
  he knew them all.
  Fourteen going on ninety.
  Knowledge gleamed in his eyes.
  Though he has since been
  swept out of reach,
  particles of sand cling and
  memories are water-cold companions.



*first published Westerly Autumn 1995

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