I have a friend who lived in a trailer park

When he was young he would

Pick up sticks and make huts outside

In the forest where leaves, wood

Concealed him from the world

I have a friend who was alone

Who dreamt of nothing but had anger

As a small boy, he would take a pocket knife

Cut his forehead open, and smear blood

On his face, in a protest to gods he made up

I have a friend who one day, was alone

I imagine he could smell cigarette smoke

On the other side of the woods

I Imagine that the branches would hit the sky

When it would set

I have a friend who, on this day, alone

Encountered a pack of wild dogs

I have a friend who, on that day, alone,

Did not use his pocket knife

I have a friend who, has friends now

And he explains,he says

“He’s never told this story before”

I have a friend who

Alone

In his forest and sanctuary

Could’ve been mauled

Fought wild dogs with his bare hands

And never said a thing

One day the sky is blood meridian

One day wild dogs bare gnarled teeth

And the boy with gritted canines

Has blood dripping down his brow

Gashes on his forehead, bite marks bare down

His arms, legs

Menthol fills

His lungs

He cannot breathe, or think, or care

I have a friend

Stained with blood

Who knelt down to these animals

I have a friend who knelt down

And said

“I’m sorry”

Dogs could never make sticks a fortress

Or have something to curse

They could never dream of more

One day, the world said

“I deserve to be euthanized”

The boy answered back

“I disagree”

The boy is a man now, and my friend.

He has two dogs.