My Human Disguise.
The fourth son sat in the middle
Of the back seat as his father
Drove them around their new home town.
For being twelve, he was little,
Wore a brace of steel and leather.
His Mom told him to settle down
When he complained he was hungry.
The streets were unplowed slush and ice.
The river hadn’t frozen twice.
His parents always seemed angry.
He’d remember this wandering drive,
How no one laughed or even spoke
(As if their new home held no hope),
Snowblind to renewing life.
