Rocking By BJ Lacross

Rocking
By BJ Lacross

He sits on the floor in the corner,

rocking.

Pinching and pulling the sleeve of his shirt,

Always rocking.

He makes no sound as we enter the room

Until we are standing in front of him,

His eyes locked on mine,

Not making contact,

He asks, “Is she coming?”

I ask who, but there is no reply, only

Rocking.

I coo assurance, touch his hand

he just pinches and pulls,

rocking.

I smooth his hair, silently begging

Begging for him to make sense

Begging for this to make sense

Placing the ball I brought into his hand

I close his fingers around it with mine

It just falls to the floor when I let go,

red against grey

Motionless, purposeless.

He stares at his sleeve, pinching, pulling,

Rocking.

I pick up the ball, putting it in his other hand,

But the floor is the only one that will hold it.

He will not look up, I say all the right things

But he will not look up, he will not speak.

I hold his shoulders, but he continues,

Rocking.

The walls are too hard, he is too soft,

Why can’t they do something?

Something to make it just for him,

Not for just anyone who is handed to them.

I let go of his shoulders, stand up to leave,

abandoning the ball, abandoning…

His eyes meet mine, translucent,

I stare back with all my might.

He asks, “Is she coming?”

I say goodbye, pausing at the door

One more look, only to see

Rocking.

I try not to run down the hall

not to burst through the exit

not to be seen.

Running across the parking lot

I feel the heat and the sun on my back,

I feel my eyes starting to burn,

As I yank the car door open and then closed.

The air inside, hot and thick,

dragging against my arm

while I fumble with the keys,

until they hit the floor.  So I just sit,

trying to glean some air, some breath.

I just sit in the car, tears flowing silent,

Rocking.