I embrace him, with bone and sinew
Gentle as a feathered boa
With love and malice, of men and mice
A rope upon itself, ten and thrice
Subdued from anger by anger, sleep now
With the stillness of a baby in its mothers arms
Before consciousness
So peaceful and docile like the child of his youth
The shadows in the well cast no reflections
Hence, suckled, cracked and arid
There is nothing here for him, as before
As was evident in his violence
Before I silenced
Marcus McKinley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-coming-of-age-time-to-move-out/
