Noah Sharp

Noah Sharp wakes up in the middle of a fitfully frantic Friday night sleep. Compelled to bring forth elephants, dinosaurs and tigers out of the deep. The toy chest has fashioned itself into an arc, big, brassy and bold. There is music wafting in that sounds straight out of heaven’s gold. You are the keeper of the animals of the future, Noah is promptly told. He uses his nightstick, commanding the creatures to plank up into the fold. They come two by two, ready to take to the sea or Elmo’s fire. We have to hurry, he tells them. To linger would be foolish and dire.