Born to be Wild

Wild Fever in the Kfar

Shaina Rothman

The gentle donkey on Thursday comes by

To the village of beige, square, flat, row homes

Wild children can’t seem to leave him alone

As the girl on the side tries not to cry

Boys jab and laugh as he pulls the cart by

ghostly parents are nowhere to be found

Their Tvs turned up, they don’t hear a sound

Sitting in bliss while she stands asking why

Just another day in the Kfar of of dreams

The one- phone village where cats roam the walls

And a wild spirit infects those innocent, alone

Where no-one is safe, as it creeps unseen

Wild spirit on the rooftops, spreads and crawls

Seeps through the windows till it enters her bones