The child and the dog

by Maria Claudia Faverio

He sat there, on the sun-pocked
little wall surrounding the school playground,
watching his chow run after
a child on a bicycle.

The child was discovering the world
on his turquoise bike
he was riding for the first time
at 6 o’clock in the morning,

before streets were flooded
with busy feet
and voices changing language
like loudspeakers
at an international airport.

He was learning to taste somewhat
of life, following a path
less predictable than Lebesgue’s integral.
That child was riding into freedom,

he was learning what it means
to be a walker of edges,
to run into enormous distances
behind the horizon.

And the little dog barking
after him, turning the air
to follow the child who laughed
and shouted for joy
on his new sparkling bicycle.

The little cripple on the sun-pocked
wall watched in silence,
like a songless bird,
while the day was starting
to unravel and the shadows of morning
swept over the child and the dog
who were discovering the world.