Geometry and Lead

The driveway is long when the sun is low.

I see him dragging the heels of his shoes,

his body bent forward, ready to go

into the dirt with the news.

He drops the canvas on the hardwood floor

and the house shakes with the sound of the dead.

It’s the history of a thousand years of war

and a hundred pages of lead.

I pull his shirt back to see the damage done.

Two red welts, hot and angry and deep,

where the straps bit into the skin of my son

while he carried the things he can't keep.