This Species has to be Killed in its Infancy by Bogdan Dragos

Image Source: Canva

the kid

handed him a piece of

paper and asked,

“Can we put this one

on the fridge?”

It wasn’t a drawing

“What’s this?” he asked

There were words

written on it

I am getting in my car

and I’m driving very far

Following the star

of my dreams

It seems

my destiny awaits

as all good things in small crates

So I’m ready to unpack

hoping it’s not something wack

I want the best of the best

The sun on the sky

I’ll be a writer with a vision

in my eye

“A poem?”

“Yes, a poem,” said the kid. “Can

we put it on the fridge

along with the drawings?”

The father stared at it

for a long time

Finally, he crumpled the

paper and said, “Let’s not

do that.”

“But… why not?”

Dad looked very troubled,

trying to squeeze

an answer

and getting only tears out

“Are you alright?” the kid

asked

He didn’t have an

answer to

that either

He got up and went

into the bathroom

Later that day

father went into the

backyard and

lit a big fire

and watched it from a log

a few feet away

while he savored a beer

There was no wood

in the fire. Only a few

suitcases full of

written papers

Enough of them

to keep the fire

burning until morning

“This species has to be killed

in its infancy,” mother

said, looking over the cold

ashes. “And that’s, of course,

for its own good.”

The kid never wrote a poem

again in his life

It was a happy

life

-BOGDAN DRAGOS

Bogdan Dragos supervises casinos for a gambling company, working twelve-hour shifts locked in a dark office full of TV monitors. There he mostly daydreams and writes poems and stories. He also manages a poetry blog Daydreaming as a profession.

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