Honorable Mention, Poetry

Optics only 9 yrs in use
saw the needle
filled with very little blood
hanging in the vein of the tied arm
The arm hanging from a man
lying in a refrigerator
in the back of an overgrown vacant lot
Retrieving the stickball became a horrific lesson
Flies             in         out of his mouth
       danced      and
to salsa music spilling from the building window
adjacent to the lot.
This man stared through hollow eyes
somewhere no one living could see
“Hey mister,” no response
Why did the ball have to be at the fingertip
of the arm
hanging from the man
lying in a refrigerator?
He smelled rotten, unlike anything
Gagging, stomach turning, dizziness
a nasty taste, even from the distance afforded
Noon sun rays bathed parts of him, the arm
Shade from the trees camouflaged the rest, the eyes
Past the hot garbage, dirty mattresses,
old rusty bike parts, broken TVs,
decrepit couches, the smell, the taste,
a small brown hand snatched what it came for
and ran like the boogie man was after him
too scared to mention the needle
filled with very little blood,
hanging from the vein in the tied arm.
the arm hanging from a man
lying in a refrigerator
in the back of an overgrown vacant lot
because everything was always his fault
until now.