THE RAVEN REVIEW
  • Home
  • About
    • About Us
    • Contributors
    • Support Us
  • Submit
  • Current Issue
  • Archive
    • Volume I >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume II >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume III >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume IV >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume V >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume VI >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
  • Home
  • About
    • About Us
    • Contributors
    • Support Us
  • Submit
  • Current Issue
  • Archive
    • Volume I >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume II >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume III >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume IV >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume V >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume VI >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II

​Preparation for Adulthood

by Brian Rihlmann
I hear it when I walk in
and as I round a corner
I see the source--

he sits in the basket
of the shopping cart
about two years old
screaming 
while dad pushes
and mom inspects the fruit

their jaws are set 
their eyes trained elsewhere 
statues of stoicism 

as I approach 
I see his little face
reddened cheeks
shiny with tears

and as I whisper
“poor little guy”
a single 
powerful sob
wells up
and shakes me

the screams 
don’t even bother me--
I wanna hug that kid

but what do I know
about being a parent?

maybe letting him 
cry it out
is best, you know?

after all
how many of us wind up 
in that same situation…
sitting alone in a room 
cold as the metal cage
of a shopping cart

with a bottle
or without one
or pills
pipes
needles…

surrogate family
on the tube
virtual lovers
on the computer 

except we don’t scream anymore 
because no one will hear
and no one will come

​and we’re used to that

Brian Rihlmann was born in New Jersey and currently resides in Reno, Nevada. He writes free verse poetry and has been published in The Blue Nib, The American Journal of Poetry, Cajun Mutt Press, The Rye Whiskey Review, and others.