by Donna Burgess

Created on: January 23, 2009

The Boy Who Became A Shell

Was it the hardening of his own self?

A roughening of his babyperfect skin, like so much sandpaper?

He curled up tight, back curved delicately

And legs pulled in tight to his chest.

Bones grew together as one thing

Joints disappeared.

Movement became slow and then not at all.

Mother carried him from place to place,

Leaving him on the high shelf in the study

Or the writing desk in the parlor.

Or the patio, where she forgot all about him

And left him to bake in the afternoon sun

Until his eyes became hard, too.

Mother had cried and so had he.

But of course no one could tell.

Asleep and he dreamt of the erosion of himself and of the sound of waves.

Friends stopped coming around

Those who did, tossed him about.

Some liked to skip him across a shallow pond

And allow him to settle to the murky floor

For an excruciatingly long and horrible moment.

A crab nested inside the pink and alabaster tunnel of one ear.

It whispered to the boy tales of the sea and of times long gone.

The boy became unrecognizable finally,

The boy in him was lost all together.

Mother loved only the boy who was lost.

One day she placed him on the beach at high tide.

She returned home alone.

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