A known unknown was walking along a country road one fine day. Cows chewed their cud, farmers threshed their fields. No one paid any mind to the known unknown because it possessed an element of predictability. The known unknown carried its element of predictability by its side in a birdcage, swinging it with each stride. The element of predictability grunted from time to time. It was a contented grunt. Sparrows chirped back from the hedgerow. When the known unknown rounded a bend, it came upon an unknown unknown sprawled across the road. The victim of a vehicular mishap perhaps? The known unknown rushed forward and stooped to investigate, whereupon the unknown unknown grabbed it by the shirt collar and pulled it close for a kiss. The startled known unknown released the birdcage, which rolled into the ditch, but not before the element of predictability escaped and darted down a gopher hole. Sparrows began to grunt. Cows threshed fields. Farmers chewed the hedgerow. Gophers strolled around in their finery until the sky split wide like theatre curtains to reveal a stage. The play was about to begin. Scene one: a country road.
Kim Goldberg 🔈
About the Author
Kim Goldberg is the author eight books of poetry and nonfiction. Her most recent collection is Devolution (Caitlin Press). Her writing has appeared in various magazines and anthologies including Abyss & Apex, StarLine, Augur, Dark Mountain, subTerrain, and elsewhere. She wonders, wanders and creates on Vancouver Island, and on Instagram @kim.goldberg.poet.