Poem of the Day: “I’d Never Noticed” by John Reinhart, Frequent Contributor

I’d Never Noticed

John Reinhart

Across the street

in one of the eight apartments

last night a ten-year-old

developmentally disabled boy

died.

His grandmother found his body

prone on the floor -

the first responders rushed

him away

to breathe one last time

strapped to a gurney

in a hospital.

All night the detectives

stayed, first to calm grandma,

but then to investigate,

only leaving after sunrise.

I slept through the fire engines,

cruisers, ambulance, and unmarked

but clearly out of place SUVs

that brought detectives,

only stirring as the medics

loaded a boy I’d never noticed

into his screaming hearse.

The primary entrance

to this apartment building

is on the other side, out of view

from my brightly colored porch

and in five years we have met

only a handful of residents

who have come and gone again:

Swamp Man Dave and Sugar stand out

because the former spotted a UFO

and the latter was a dog.

Police continue to investigate

while I continue to wonder

how far we’ve come to be so distant

from the people we live nearest to

and how one unfamiliar boy

I’d never seen has shaken my faith

in myself.

Poet’s Notes:  This is a true and truly awful story. Police arrested the grandmother (http://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/front-range/wheat-ridge/onesia-najera-arrested-on-warrant-in-grandson-angel-goodwins-drowning-death). What struck me was not the details so much as the underlying loss of connection between people, especially when I try at least to be aware of all my neighbors.