LUNARCY

Leaves curl and turn like words,
everyone shys away and turns to gawk 
at the crippled man.  
He leans silently against one wall.  
The wall is cracked red brick. 
Senna and standing.  
As the man stood, he peered into a crack in the wall.  
There was nothing beyond the crack for him.  
He saw it as it was, a crack in the wall.  
A few intellectuals passed him by and pondered if the crack was a metaphor.  
Maybe the insignificant crack held personal meaning for the broken man.  
His body must be emprisoning they thought.  
Slow to move, he barely shuddered a glance.  
His eyes burned from the sun.  
His skin reflected only what his body could say.  
They never put the man in a box.  
He soared above all the birds.  
He needed no wings or feet to outrun the rest.  
Like the tortoise he sat at the start line looking ahead, 
understanding where he had to go.


-Bradford Peyton