The Boy that Spoke in Morse Code

After the tong and pull
the blood tapping from the ear
he was born to a two sound world

The dot - pinch, prick
bite, stab, the needle
through the eye

And the dash - the skid mark,
smear, stitches, the ka-smack!
of a follow through fist
the slide of a knife
around a wrist

Home was a chessboard
streets a jazz club
school a blotted note
the syllables and spit
black on white on blue

So passing the yellow line
of a grey platform, the long and short
stride of a light through smoke
takes him through that last grinding dash
all the way to a slowly blinking,
shrinking, distant dot.