Ice Cream at the Park

You called the attack
an outburst
not a scoop of fear or the
hissing of your brainstem or a
toxic backsplash from the
curdled side of your heart.
It’s hard to be you.
Your inner torment
stabs out of squinted eyes
across my ice cream cone
green grass
and music in the park
melting hopes of sweetness.

Excluded from the
tender embrace of many
you are lost…

And we are all sad.

Gayle Madison
August 2014
Omena, Michigan

Copyright © 2014 Gayle Madison