his unmade adolescent face
still touched with sleepiness
at six o’clock in the evening
as if he’s incapable of ever fully waking up.
a smattering of pimples
at its peripheries make him
seem improbably young,
yet the victory is his all along.
his vulnerability, in heavy-lidded eyes
and unsure hands, shields him from harm.
and he is blessed with the enviable self-
possession of the twelve-year-old
to whom nothing really matters all that much.