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 ... [+]
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.
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.