By Robert Beveridge

It’s the way you drive
this road, the oddness
of the sunset,
perhaps the way the light
plays off black trees
one side of the blacktop light
the other dark.
It is the weave, the curves
that push me towards, away
from the light.

and fast,
always fast.

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise ( and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Red Coyote Review, Deep South Magazine, and Aromatica Poetica, among others.

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