He leaves diminutive bundles
wrapped in cellophane on
people’s doorsteps.
Not on any specific day, but
they do appear by sunrise.
No one knows how he chooses
his recipients. No one knows
the reason he does it.
Everyone knows who he is, but
no one dares confront him.
They suspect he’s in cahoots
with the neighborhood witch;
We call him shadow man.
He skulks around at night,
making his dreadful deliveries.
One day, on my way to school
I come across one of the bundles
lying on the sidewalk.
Its bright, red color beckons;
I think of Christmas presents.
Are the rumors true?
Are its contents what people
whisper about?
Using a small branch, I prod the
bundle open. Nausea grips my throat.
My face feels hot. I try not to cry.
At least no one saw me–Stupid,
stupid, stupid. I resume my walk.
Behind me, a sudden gust of wind
sweeps away dried feces.
Julieta Corpus
2/26/2012
