a poetry e-zine

 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Poems By Taylor Graham
INTERSTATE

This narrow lane is mine, parallel to
so many, for a time: its yellow boundary
on the left, its dotted white to guide
me at 80-plus, too fast to give me space
to wonder
if I’ll arrive.
One city merges with the next. A detour
sign, warning of a bypass; interchanges
tricky as a heart alive; to either
side, my fellow travelers at ease,
it seems,
with speed
that either kills or gets us there.
Oncoming headlights aim and veer and
blind. Ahead, strings of brake-lights
blip as if to make carotids visible
beneath
their pearls.
But this lane – lines parallel, distinct
as border crossings; black asphalt
laid out straight for me to steer
my metal shell – is, for a
narrow
instant, mine.



Taylor Graham is a volunteer search-and-rescue dog handler in the Sierra Nevada. Her poems have appeared in International Poetry Review, The Iowa Review, The New York Quarterly, Poetry International, Southern Humanities Review, and elsewhere, and she's included in the anthology, California Poetry: From the Gold Rush to the Present (Santa Clara University, 2004). Her book The Downstairs Dance Floor (Texas Review Press, 2006) was awarded the Robert Phillips Poetry Chapbook Prize. Her latest is Among Neighbors (Rattlesnake Press, 2007).

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