Tonight's Poet Corner: Morris

Morris
by Belinda Roddie

Once, I found a boy half-naked,
half-drowned, beside the schoolyard
where the rain welled up around his toes,
puddles on the swing set
and muddy cascades down the slide.

He said his name was Morris, but it was not
his birth name. Just the name he stamped
on his arm himself in purple classroom
ink. He accepted shoes from me
but not a shirt.

When I told him he could stop by
for something hot to eat or drink,
he replied by walking in the opposite
direction, sloshing water in his new
boots, his jeans stained with grass
newly wet from the storm.

I never saw him again, and
I wondered if a lightning bolt
had struck him near the train
station, and instead of
falling, he dissolved into light
shooting back up toward the clouds.