for Ken Bolton

While waiting for Little Red Riding Hood in her
grandmother’s bedroom the wolf is trying to sing

“My Funny Valentine”

the way Chet Baker does.

He knows he can’t, won’t
put a paw over one ear, doesn’t want to hear how

he’s performing. He’s aware

Little Red Riding Hood is getting closer, and

his eyes wander
to a reproduction, framed and leaning

against the wall, of a Vermeer. He touches

his wet nose to the milk pouring from the clay jug
into a two-handled bowl. Now he remembers

singing to the moon and his mother. Is that

what Chet Baker was doing? Did Baker’s
mother protect him when he was small?

Did she teach him about prey?


John Levy



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