His espresso…

His espresso toned skin was splayed

Out near first base,

the same plate

he claimed

Each Sunday softball game..

….

Now he laid –

without a breath

near the base,

Smeared on face was white chalk

If the rocks could talk they’d relay

What he’d say when he’d play

Imagining winning to celebrate

His name … they’d keep saying

So he did, as if:

Jamil, Jamil, Jamil-il-il-il (with echoes)

friends chose

J,

this made him proud-

as his uncle would say;

“one day you’ll be biiig as your cousin J”,

then off he’d dash to catch the last bit of sunshine..

All until the ‘one time’,

On

one fine

autumn evening

When …

Sunset met dawn patrol

on patrol

On the clock..

parking lot now made hot

They came ..

J was playing

Had a toy

As a young boy will …

The problem is

This young boy – -was killed

On that day when..

There’ll be no –

repent…

Young J was sent

Was it meant…?

To be

He

laid down,

made sounds & an utterance

His mother bends,

knees,

tweaked, collapsed as she has folded..