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Sarah Browning: After I Knew

June 7, 2020 by PBQ Leave a Comment

I drove alone through the farmland
of central New York – the open vistas
and steep drops – towns with names
like Lyle unexplored, their secrets hoarded,
as I was hoarding my own secret
then. I-88 was empty as always and I
followed its long high valley, driving
away from you. We had not yelled
or broken mere things. I did not cry.
I drove fast, but not recklessly. 

I stopped for a nap before Albany,
a middle-aged woman sleeping alone
in an aging Geo Prism. For a few more
miles I hoped I could just drive away.

Filed Under: Issue 100, Poetry, Poetry 100 Tagged With: Sarah Browning

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