Her nose knew this smell. The people. The men. Men. Men took the trees. Men made them hot and orange. Men would touch the trees to make them glow in the night. The trees began a new life that filled ... [+]
Deborah L. Davitt writes acclaimed poetry, short stories, and novels. For more about her work, please see www.edda-earth.com "From a High Perch, Waiting" is in Short Circuit #05, Short Édition's quarterly review.
He climbed a telephone pole first;next, a cell phone tower,because he'd heard of ancient saintswho clambered up pillarsto be closer to god,or at least, further from humanity.People thought he wanted to jump,shouted that he had so muchto live for, got the police into talk him down—the cops accused him of trespassing.Reporters asked if he was protestingthe hidden dangers of microwave rays—they finally forced him downwith a tranquilizer dartand a net spread below.It's not just the challengeof the ascent,that much is clearfrom his few interviews,not just a matterof testing himselfagainst the heigh