Lump At The Back Of My Head

There is a lump,

back of my head,

top of my neck.

When I touch it

I hear again the thud,

feel again the thud,

and think again of the gravel pit.

Lump At The Back of My Head

Bob Komives 

You may know the place.

Years later they built a stadium there.

Later they tore that down

to build the business park.

We played war over gravel mountains,

threw rocks at communists only we could see.

In terrible battle we fell to mortal wounds

and (to keep the war from ending)

resurrected ourselves

under new names

and new battle flags

to launch attack

or put up desperate defense.

That day,

when dusking sky and busying avenue

signaled: dinner on the stove back home,

I ran (victorious)

to the top of my gravel mountain.

I yelled, Battles over, let's go!

Then the thud.

I staggered,

reached back to the point of pain,

felt the damp,

looked at my fingers,

saw blood.

I turned,

stared down my mountain to Buddy,

my friend and fellow warrior.

I saw in his eyes

that my pain was no accident

unless you pardon a lousy thrower

for thinking he would miss

when he threw a traitor's rock.

Hurt and bloodied,

forgiveness foregone,

I chased Buddy a mile

and shouted a threat through the screen door

as it slammed between me and his mother's safety.

Crossing the alley,

past my screen door,

I said not a word to my own mother.

Later that night,

under dry blood, 

I found a soft lump.

A week later

I could feel the hardened lump.

Now, decades later,

I reach to the back of my head,

hear again the thud,

feel again the thud,

think again of the gravel pit,

either to laugh again at good fun

or to fear again betrayal.

Bob Komives :: Fort Collins © 2001 :: Lump At The Back Of My Head :: 0110