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1. He walked a groomed
path, gray gravel spackled
with white pebbles; on
the margins: an interlocking
wire fence on either side
looped like Roman domes
each sheltering a shamrock,
the grass surrounding
a bright sunshone green.
2. But in the distance
a garbage dump, tall,
at least four storeys
not a building but
abuilding, pulsating
gray and purple and
with ominous flashes
of light racing in and out,
and he is not afraid.
3. Then in a tall building
ten storeys up; he decides
to jump, an easy choice.
He does not fall, he flies
peacefully, down floating;
beneath him a flat
sidewalk-elevator open
waiting for him, he lands,
lands, chest gently tapping.
4. He rests, grounded.
From the dump comes
a gray wolf, over
the path, to the sidewalk,
to him, and bites his
hand, gently, its fangs
make no wound.
The man knows the child
could never be hurt.
Steven Fortney
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Page updated by TiPi, 1/24/2007