roadtrip
Darkness has made itself
Comfortable,
The car is soaked through.
I sit with my back
Against the door
Allowing the world to come at me
Sideways.
And it comes so fast.
The double yellow line
Reflecting our headlights
Curling away like a
Snake spine.
My heart surges
This song is the moon
Calling the tides back.
Sonja Wooley is a writer from the Bay Area who loves podcasts and fantasy worlds and enormous cups of tea.
The Literary Forest Poetry Magazine 