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Birthday
Restlessness
accompanied by a brief hallucination
coated the contents of his mind
his arm hung over the edge of the wood
pricks and scars leading a map up his forearm
clusters sometimes collecting in a specific area
“They’re bedbug bites” he told his mother
voice slurred
eyes fluttering
eyelids drooping closed
she glanced up to see
her son’s head rolled back,
eyes drifting to a close beneath his glasses,
his mouth slightly opened
in the midst of his birthday dinner.
the mother
loving as she was
did not feel proud
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To clarify, this poem is on drug (heroin) use