"The Wrecking Ground, pt. 22" by Lee Huttner
"The Wrecking Ground" is an essay told in parts by Lee Huttner. We will be publishing a new part each week on our blog. Stay tuned!
Let us call the boy Blue.
His parents named him Angelo, nicknamed him Angelino, little angel, Nino for short. But that was his name in life. Let us call the boy Blue in his death.
Blue has grown up to be a fine young man, and handsome. He has his mother’s high, wise forehead, his father’s haunted eyes.
Blue is the name of the boy who will meet me at my death. The boy with sand in his eyes.
Like many of the drowned, Blue cannot speak. He tried, once, and succeeded in producing only a kind of low whine.
Blue is the name of the boy I love. With every blink, a fine spill of sand dusts the crests of both cheeks, the triturated remains of mollusk and marble.
Blue is the name of the boy who will kill me. In death, I will take his name. Blue, little angel, usher me to the burial-places of the drowned.