Is the boy there again
in the dark of the hallway
in the cold
face turned to the crack of light
hand reaching?
Time will come
seeping.
Call up the sun
light to blast doors
and walls to splinters.
Then bring the old man his supper
beside the hearth he made
meat broth and bread
thick curls of butter.
This is the boy
cutched by the fire
mother
sister
father
brother.