Night Watchman - Matthew Ryan

My name is Hank Low

I was born on Christmas eve

My Daddy wasn’t there

He was talking with the police

A neighbour called it in

He was hitting mom again, again, again

No ambulance came

Only stuttered grief

Ma fell asleep on the couch

While my brother played with me

No charges pressed

Soon dad was home, home, home

Busted lip

Milk and cheese

At the grocery store

Eyes looking down at me

Six years old, bubble gum hid

I my hand in my pocket

Now Ma only cried

When she watched TV

At night I’d lie awake

Till Dad fell asleep

Come fourth grade my Ma held me

And called me her little night watchman

My brother fell sick

When he turned fifteen

His eyes went dark

His head went mean

I cried and cried

The night he died, alone, alone

So Ma went down

To the Welfare House

See money got smaller

Since Frankie killed himself

And Dad blamed Ma

Put her head through a wall, put her head through a wall

I came up slow behind

Moving awfully quiet

I remember the summer crickets

I stabbed him thirty times

My name is Hank Low

I was thirteen years old

I was the night watchman