I seize. A car engine driven
\ntoo long in the hot sun, steam
\nescaping from under the hood,
\nradiator a dark-throated beast
\nseethes and leaks. I stand<\/p>\n
stricken. Words blown
\nfrom me by the sharp air
\nof your death. I crouch in
\nthe bushes, wait for the worst
\nto pass, for muscles to<\/p>\n
remember. Here, in the current
\nof life called Maine, here in
\nthe vertex of all my choices,
\nI expect the world to stop,
\nthe leaves still, the black calls<\/p>\n
of the birds to fall like ashes
\non the split curtain of June. This hard
\npacked bough, my mother\u2019s death.
\nI climb the hill, feet meeting road,
\ntar a hot slap on my soles.<\/p>\n
Published in:
\nThe Comstock Review
\nFall\/Winter 2015<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I seize. A car engine driven too long in the hot sun, steam escaping from under the hood, radiator a dark-throated beast seethes and leaks. I stand stricken. Words blown from me by the sharp air of your death. I crouch in the bushes, wait for the worst to pass, for muscles to remember. Here, … <\/p>\n