William Wenthe: Prophecy

In the predawn of Monday, I woke, dream-heavy
with a feeling of fate—like memory, but more
like remembering forward, ahead to a day already,
even though it hadn’t happened yet, momentous.
The feeling came so strong, so beyond any doubt,
I thought maybe the old prophets had felt this way—
a knowing implanted within, and yet without

evidence. All day I waited, as if in a theater,
expecting to see a tragedy or (I dared to hope)
a comedy; but a thousand minutes later,
the curtain never rose. All that had come to pass
was conclusive proof that prophecy’s not easy.
And so I let the feeling go, and went to bed.
And then it was Tuesday. Then Wednesday.

Then today. After school, I pick up my daughter.
Guess what—guess what we saw!—She can barely wait
as I toss off one wrong guess after another.
It was up on the roof, all curled up, sleeping
by the chimney—a fox, a gray fox! Yes, they happen
to be good climbers, these foxes; and being mostly
nocturnal, it’s lucky this one enlivened

a fourth grade school day by taking a snooze
on the sun-warm tiles of the roof. To mark
the occasion—not that we need an excuse,
since we’re likely to do it anyhow—
we drive to the donut shop. As we’re turning
downtown, the traffic narrows to a single lane,
and police cruisers blaze their blue-red warning.

We’re creeping past fire engine, ambulance, wrecker,
a minivan on its side, a crumpled sedan,
paramedics hunched over a body on a stretcher,
a soul weighed by a feather. No turning off; we must
pass through. It is Thursday afternoon. One day,
unfolding in routine, wonder, accident.
It could have been any day. Even Monday.

~~~

Copyright 2024 William Wenthe

William Wenthe’s most recent collection The Gentle Art: Poems (LSU, 2023) examines the life of the American painter, James McNeill Whistler, as refracted through Wenthe’s own struggles as artist, parent, partner.