when I was young and read Lord of the Flies,
and when I read the part where Piggy dies,
I screamed out loud, You got it wrong. No!
As if Golding could hear me through the spine.
Perhaps because I also was a geek.
Perhaps because I didn’t want to know
how cruel the world can be. How kids like me
could choose, in fearful times, to kill our friends.
My son detests the book, but not because
the boys are cruel, because it moves too slow.
I try to reconcile his callousness, his good
and tender heart. He’s grown up in an age
where killing is a part of weekly life.
How strange for me to grieve the loss of grief.