teenage thugs
preying on smaller children
prancing like tattooed peacocks
laughing through the haze
of shallow illicit drags
daring a challenge

a tiny lad
yet wiry, proud, defiant
even though
they’d taken his lunch money
defiled his books
trashed his cell
duct-taped him to a tree

Suicide was not an option
teachers provided little protection
parents said to let it pass
so, one day, he ran on stage
during the school assembly,
in full view of everyone,
he fought back
the only way he could

Fly unzipped,
pants, then underwear
dropped to ankles
he gave his tormentors
a full moon ❏

Peter Witt is a retired university professor, at least that’s what it says on my business card.

Photo by Clayton Cardinalli.


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