Flash Fiction & Poetry
Weathered Wing
escaped me fourteen years ago
never could handle my criminal flow
hypocrite
she loved the jewelry and tight clothes
dinners, movies and dessert
vacations, handbags and fresh rides
but hated suspect customers and friends
Benson was just trying to make ends
meet
clean Air Force Ones on his feet
she slipped out like tires on sleet
covered concrete
back to Carolina she flew
the Kid: punches he threw
G’s he collected
pointless females he connected
with, trying to replace his queen
mansions he erected
drug game he perfected
then that skinny kid rolled up
knots in Kent’s stomach when his eyes met mine
she hid him from me for thirteen years
he escaped the South in search of me, and fear
now he sees me on the corner
role model, initially he didn’t find
initially angry, I said he wasn’t mine
treated my flesh and blood anything but kind
never had a father, so give me time
i told him
no idea how to raise a kid
bought him fresh fabric for his lid
took him under my weathered wing
he learned the streets
hustled at the swap meets
smoking like his dad
once in my life, Kent was glad
to have a partner
in crime
making up for severe lost time
my son-my best friend
back on the corner
back to my grind
stuck in some shit, or a bind
Benson Jr. in an argument
rush in to save my baby boy
a bullet met my misshaped dome
saved him, but know I’m alone
again
in purgatory for my life of sin
finally caught up with Benson
love you to death Junior
know i taught you wrong
but that is all your pops knew
take care of your moms
and i’ll see you soon…
| Print article | This entry was posted by Kent Lucas on January 24, 2010 at 11:46 am, and is filed under Uncategorized. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site. |
about 7 months ago
deep. this belongs in the bensonian museum.