Unforgettable

The day I get my diagnosis,
I do not tell anyone. I drive
and drive down 16 Mile,
paralleling the Freedom Trail.

My thoughts and time do not
touch. It is November. I lean into
the throat of winter as the evening
presses itself silently together.

Only tomorrow will I remember my
knuckles, white against the leather
wheel. Joints sharpening against
squares of orange light, falling.

On the way home, I think of highway
signs. The way they always tell us
where to go, how far, how fast.
There is comfort in the unflinching.
1

You might also like…

Poetry
Poetry

Planting Instructions

Cameron Walker

Dig a hole the depth of your open palm. The hole needs to be this deep because coins are shiny, and crows like shiny things. Holes should be placed at least 12 inches apart, with three coins per hole ...  [+]
Poetry

Moonmouse

S.L. Harris

We brought them with us accidentally, or maybe they were secret smuggled pets for someone who worried they might get lonely. They'd've been right to worry: it's really lonely on the moon.   Howeve ...  [+]