TO SEE THE TOE OF THE GIANT

 

by Anthony Watkins

                           

                                                            

We left the squat cinder block building that

was the Jasper parsonage

on a cold wet overcast morning,

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With golden sycamore leaves covering

the yard and the little metal pedal cars

were stored in the shed

​

Uncle Walter drove the red Rambler

east to Birmingham the heater fogging the windows

as he steered through rush hour to the top of Red Mountain.

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I was four and wanted to climb the tower,

by now it was cold and upon the mountain,

the goldfish pools had iced over.

I remember being amazed

to see them swimming beneath the ice.

​

We started up the winding staircase

the tower, before we were half way up

I tired and wanted to stop,

but my big brother wanted

to see the toe of the giant.

​

He took one arm, my uncle the other

And they swung me up step by step

Until we stepped out into the icy wind

to see Birmingham in the cold morning sun.

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* * *

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Anthony Watkins lives in Tallahassee, Florida with his wife, teen-aged college student daughter, and Babymoo, their dog. He is the publisher of a series of literary journals since 1995, including the brand new online quarterly: Better Than the Times, and is a Community Teaching Assistant at University of Pennsylvania’s Modern and Contemporary American Poetry (ModPo). He gives poetry readings and leads discussions on poetry and small press publishing at libraries, high schools and universities around the south.