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;
into our deep churning darkness.

written on 02/14/2018 by: Matt Kane