Day 973

In the middle of what
was a street
in the middle of what
was a city
a boy and a dog
and a skinny donkey
stand, looking
around. As though
they’d just awakened
from a long sleep.
As though
they’d been dropped
by some large fabled bird
into a time and a place
they’d never known,
never been told of.
Have they walked,
all three, from
a ruined farm?
Have they found
each other
along the way, three
lost survivors,
and stuck together,
foraging for food,
sharing whatever
they’ve found?
Are they searching
for someone
who knows them?
Is there anyone
alive anymore who
knows them?