Our little dog Valentine lives to hope.
Once, free of leash restraint,
He met a friend, a foe, also roaming wild.
And now
When we reach the hill where that dog ran,
Val stops, looks up, and scans in hope.
II.
I stand under that same hope.
The day of my baby brother's birth,
I stood on the steps of my grandmother's stairs,
A towel-cape pinned to my shoulders
As I jumped, step to step,
Knowing I could fly.
The cereal box told me so:
Eat me and you'll fly like Superman, it said.
III.
My grandmother at the foot of the stairs watched,
Hand on hip:
Is it a brother or a sister you'll be wanting?
A baby girl, I said. Please.
And then returned to the real business at hand.
IV.
Jump. Thump.
Jump. Thump.
One day, that wild dog will come again.
One day, you'll fly away
To the beckoning blue beyond.
