Children of the Poppy by Diane Dehler

Children of the Poppy

A small boy abandoned on a freeway,

intersection Hades/five miles Hell/next exit.

Morning sun does not breathe on this child.

Children of the Poppy: some stolen some

abandoned, some dead.

Midnight on its toes, promise of a surge

greater than self.  An offertory bless the

vein that craves for death is dark and nods

a dreamy head.  A wicked refrain complete

with jail cell strip search overdose. 

An image of four young comrades poised

while waiting, and the little one only eleven

can’t hold up his head. The others make the

finger while humming alive with pulsing

night hour jazz. 

Ruined children stained teeth shattered heart,

History purges them. Plastic bag snaps open,

knife chops & some wine some die some fix.

Chance holds the Queen of Hearts under an

abandoned indigo sky.

Diane Dehler

First published in poeticdiversity: the litzine of Los Angeles, November 2013