Shadows grow large as night comes on. Stillness slips through the windows, settles over
the room, the city. Absence grows larger, grows heavy. Too heavy to bear. Stillness,
shadows. And waiting.
The phone ringing. 4 a.m. Ringing. Ringing. Like a feral cat.
The man on the high wire sways in the breeze. Below, the falls. The boy swimming,
sharks in the water. The child at the zoo slips from his mother’s arms. The wolves.
Storm shutters are up. Life jackets fastened. Sirens. Clouds on the horizon.
Waiting, listening. For voices. For the sound of a car. For a door slamming. Then the
Not the storm but the cloud, black as an abyss,
bigger than the sky.