By Evan Wilson
His artwork is cracking in the corner of the kiln
Like an old and silent and unseen old film
Playing only in black and in white.
He takes a quick glance
And it’s enough for tonight.
She kisses the photo of the star from the screen,
She can’t even think to think something obscene.
She’d have him if only he passed within sight.
She thinks and she smiles
And it’s enough for tonight.
The Shepard is waiting for his only one chance.
Fortune and Fate have been avoiding his dance.
He thinks that’s The Star passing, blinking, and bright.
Farewell to his flock,
It’s enough for tonight.
She prepares for the dinner one less stalk of sweet corn
And remembers how he cried on the day he was born.
He’s too young for reason or wisdom or right
But someday he’ll see.
It’s enough for tonight.
A rotted red apple from the trash of the store.
The rattling, rickety railroad floor.
It’s not nearly enough for a nap or a bite
But there he’ll find more.
It’s enough for tonight.
White Noise Zine 