Missing Children

TWO BIRDS She left the house after midnight, running barefoot her dressing gown parted, lifting like tail feathers. And slid into the car beside me on the bench seat with two pillowcases spilling sheer white and violets. Smoothing her wet black hair, she looked at me evenly and took my hand. Crow on a trembling branch. The sky was hemmed with lavender, straight-pinned with stars. In this silver light I looked back and saw the little one start down the road after her. His cowboy pyjamas billowing, he canters, legs unsteady lariats, his arms raised. She saw him too. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, she pressed my knee and we accelerated, coughing up gravel and stones. I think he was hit, the way he fell down and cried out, brown spurs revolving against red, nightingale.Crosbie, Lynn is the author of 'Missing Children' with ISBN 9780771024252 and ISBN 0771024258.