Read an excerpt...

Pronoun

A pronoun is a ghost
of who you really are
short
sharp
harsh
whispering its presence,
taunting your soul.
In you
of you
but not
all you.
Struggling,
my own
He She
Him Her
I You.
Scared that
for scrambled-pronoun
Me,
We
might never
exist.(BRENDAN CHASE)
The Name Is Brendan
Dinner table,
silverware gleaming.
Claude the Interloper finishes
telling a story.
Mom passes me steak.
“How was your day?”
She’s chirping, despite
surgery two days ago.
I shrug
the missed bus,
shrug
the half-hour wait for the next one,
shrug
the wrestling practice that blew.
Don’t bother to elaborate.
Mom hates Coach
(almost) as much as I do.
Freshman year
she wanted me to skip holiday practice
so what was left of our family
could go on vacation.
Coach described the importance of
“consistent training and conditioning.”
Said he always mentioned “dedication”
in his college letters of recommendation.
She wavered and then
he told her flat out that
I was the weakest link
and always would be if I was a
mama’s boy who’d miss training.
She was ticked, but
we stayed in town
with the other manly
and dedicated jocks.
He was on my ass today
for getting caught
by a head-and-arm drag.
A crappy thing itself,
our faces so close.
Still he yelled.
And through all the drills
my head wasn’t in it.

© Kristin Elizabeth Clark. All rights reserved.

 

_____________________________

INDIEBOUND | B &  N | AMAZON

Freakboy

 

dividerLine