- 54 -

Tankas for Runaways
Moriah Northcutt 

When is it my turn 
to be able to say mom
or dad? Where am I
going this time? “A new home,”
they say. Maybe this one’s forever.

You raise your hand and
I flinch. Your brow furrows, eyes

 slice my skin, I brace
 for your blow, you smile.

 “Not where people can see, dear.”

One bottle, two more.
The only thing sadder than 
My best friends being 
Jack, Brandy, Jim, and Mary
is this bottle’s bare bottom.

He’s at the corner 
of the busy Mini Mart 

Again. Paper cup 
in hand. The change doesn’t clang,

and nobody gives him cash.

Whose needle is this? 
Fuck if I care. Shoots the same.
Quick, run through my veins.
Help me, help me ignore this
pain. I see the light once more.