Unafraid, Ready

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

Walking through a waist-high field beyond Ypsilanti,

brushing my palms over the whispering grain.  The field ends

at a gray, gravel road between an abandoned train station

and dandelion-decorated tracks.

 

Unsure how far it goes.  Resolute I will not turn back.

Passing rusted, graffiti-swirled husks of train cars,

I know I’m being watched from somewhere by someone(s),

and I am unafraid.  My jean-jacket flutters a little in the thin-

aired summer wind.

 

A gray grasshopper helicopters from out of nowhere and lands

some distance ahead.  It blends so well with the road it disappears.

As I near, it suddenly lifts in a whir of black-speckled wings, turns, banks,

and again, lands in the road aways.  This time, I follow it with my eyes.

I can’t help–and don’t care if I can’t help–wondering.

 

Barred ticket windows, signs saying keep away from the tracks,

do not pass the yellow line; a stopped clock, stock tracks

with forever locked switches.

 

The grasshopper rubs its hind legs, readying to catapult itself

into the air.  I drop my jacket, take off my t-shirt, unafraid,

and wings emerge from my shoulder blades—

unfolding, veined, transparent, fanning open, parting, thrumming,

ready.