"soreness of heart" by val evans

what the hell i am doing here? on the plain
overlooking desert, cactus, deer? i forgot i found the bank here
in trash in an alley behind houses in raton, new mexico;
i forgot that william tell, in iron, shot an iron arrow at an
iron apple atop an iron child standing in front of an iron castle rook
- was this his child? his son? i forgot.

i don't know why i am here; i forgot that my mother
took the bank from me - what was i, thirteen? she has it on her mantle
piece; sitting there like she owns it.
odd, that this, of all resentments, bothers me more than any.

odd, that i have never forgotten that she took this
small, found treasure from my hands and left it there
above a fireplace in indiana

what is this? this soreness of heart over something i found in
trash in an alley in new mexico when i was thirteen?