dropping his pants to reveal dark, meaty ropes criss-crossing his buttocks and thighs, snaking up into his torso, fibrous and taut, twisting his gait into a painstaking shuffle. “I got burned in the riots the day after Dr. King got shot. I was five years old. That’s it.”
I can’t help myself from realizing that on that day, I was a little boy, too.
Robbie Gamble’s work is coming out in The Atlanta Review, Cutthroat, Whale Road Review, and Rust + Moth. He was the winner of the 2017 Carve Poetry prize. He works as a nurse practitioner caring for homeless people in Boston.