The Boy on the Milk Carton

The Boy on the Milk Carton

He ploughed into the driveway in a matchbox car
red stripes flashing
flying
into the garage with a ship in a bottle
transparently racing
on the heels of golden wings
dark, fading figures
shattered
on the white wall,
unfinished
like
redefined red ratchets
the pieces swung slightly
rescinding
in a web of invisible strings,
springing sharply
and
Lost
in a forest of glass,
(unwanted arms)
gathering green flowers from his
bite-sized,
monochromatic garden
forehead wrinkles, liquid staining
his rose petal cheek

facing a faceless crowd