Billy has a dead falcon
in a box under his bed & each night
feels its wings ghost into his heart.
He tells Elias who says cool cool
& knows everything
about fuses, gun licenses & pizza.
They used to spend days by the reservoir
when summers were blind hot
& the water sweated back
to reveal the village bricks
where his grandmother once lived
knee-deep in her roots
& windows were pictures
not opportunities. Before the flood.
Elias hates school.
Says they should set it on fire.
Elias is full of shit sometimes.
Don’t talk like that his mother snaps.
He wonders what his dad would think.
In Billy’s head
his dad has a smiling emoji face. His mum
says Mr. G’s face was mostly like a howling gale
trapped in a jam jar. Billy’s not sure
whether to believe or laugh
so sticks with the emoji.
Today, Elias is waiting for Billy
out by the power lines.
Brags he’s been touching a farm girl
& makes Billy smell his finger.
It reminds Billy of the sea
& he feels the tide coming in.
Elias has his backpack, fat as beef,
hidden in the restless wheat. Dares Billy
to carve 666 into his pale chest.
The penknife glints
& Billy imagines cutting a hole in water
so his grandmother
can meet herself again.
Sees his mother sweeping the porch,
bad back singing its blues.
Pictures the emoji face
& Elias has gone. Backpack & all.
It’s the school holidays.
The days are long
& sometimes birds fall from the sky.
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Fiction - ISSUE #28