The Wild Ewt of the Plains of Canada

X EQUALS

In high school, I was good
at solving equations
     (If train A travelling
     ninety mph, leaves Regina
     at nine a.m., when and where
     will it meet train B, travelling
     at eighty mph and leaving Moose Jaw
     at eight a.m.?)
But now hearing so often
of derailments, chemical spills,
I worry,
     "Will train A collide with train B?"
I visualize fire, sulphurous smoke,
bodies, charred limbs dragged from wreckage.

Years ago I knew that I could pinpoint
the exact value of X, shunting back and forth
across equal signs.
     X was a knight in shining armor
     approaching on a silver stallion.
     X was that unknown riding
     a Suzuki in a tuxedo on a fall day
     when leaves bled. X gave all the answers.
Now in winter, X repeated is the cross stitch
sewing poor scarecrow's mouth shut,
the assailant unrecognised
in dark ambush.
     X marks the spot
     toward which we
     (like train A and B) travel
     at a fixed rate.


Mildred Rose