Jagged rage flicks overhead, grumbles in primeval throat. Maddened cloaks of sea green shroud tunnels of tall corn. Truck headlights skitter over splintered cottonwood sentries. You look back at rosy sunset, then grind clutch, spit gravel.
Julia Meylor Simpsonlives in East Providence, RI, and works in corporate communications. Her poetry has been published in literary magazines across the country, and she was the recipient of a National Endowment of Humanities fellowship in 2006. She has an masters in teaching from Rhode Island College and a Bachelor’s Degree in journalism from Iowa State University.
Read also Touch the Edge and Then.