The summer we camped in the meadow,
they led with their teeth into the lantern light
scattering only at the sound of the 4-10
All night we could hear their low growls,
hear them pacing the dry grass just far enough away
that their eyes glowed the color of the log’s coals
They kept us awake until we talked ourselves out
trying to understand how we could escape
being like our parents and teachers,
when we could save enough money to catch a ship
for Africa, New Zealand or maybe Japan
They were gone when we woke,
cold and stiff with dew
That was 1965 and there was talk of a war
We couldn’t put words to it
but knew we too would one day be running,
running forever outside a circle of light,
eyes afire, throats hoarse with rage