the beast too long neglected. But that was before,
and long before you heard the story of the boy
and his father, how left alone for three days
they played cowboys, and how the father fell
on the first day, fell down and stayed there, playing
dead, the boy thought, and how he tried
to lift his father's head, tried to feed him
to make him stop, feed him breakfast, and how
he didn't stop, not for one minute, not once.
Who would have the day back when it happened to him?
Or the day before the day when he imagined himself
a boy, and deservedly happy?
Like the night, when the light from your lamp fell
on your face with what seemed an affectionate look.
Lee Gerlach
from
"CITY NIGHTS"
17
In
the deep ravine that spills out to the valley,
Furtive among black mounds of laurel,
The white doe wanders. More than once, startled,
I have come upon her at twilight or at dawn
Browsing among the flowerbeds, and her light thudding
Cups on the air, her scut bobs as she swings
Down into the brush. This is no forest retreat,
No Syrinx lounges in a covert here. Dry country.
Surrounded by city, this archaic place resists
Tomorrow. The owl hunts here. Kit fox and possum
