In this dark theater,
surrounded by strangers,
we watched Hostiles
A suicide, a grieving mother, a broken solider;
they reminded me I was unable to utter
the animal inside when it would've mattered.
In a home of strangers, I made no sound.
In this dark theater, I crunch my popcorn

The old woman beside me
clenching her eyes closed
as they came upon the body
leaned against the log.
The animal inside wanted to join her;
two strangers met by tragedy
and years spent in idle.
But I held my focus to admire
the makeup
that made the hole in his head
stare back into us.

narrative poem written on 02-13-2018 by: on mattkane.com
view image of poem


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