End of the Road, CR 245
How the day’s fragments fade. One cloud,
a leaf. The horned toad scuttling across
the path. I am wondering what lies
beneath the flimsy topsoil, whether grubs
or beetles linger in their perpetual nights.
If I overturn that rock, will a scorpion’s tail
rise? Thunder strums my roof as I look
through the streaked window. Nothing
changes. You wanted that separate
peace, the one kept boxed in the drawer
for safekeeping. Foolish for having once
believed, for remaining in disbelief,
I step out into the rain, lift the rock.
“End of the Road, CR 245” was published in fall 2019 in the print anthology Through Layered Limestone: A Texas Hill Country Anthology of Place. I am grateful to editors d. ellis phelps, Lucy Griffith, Darlene Logan, Donna Peacock and Mobi Warren for taking this and three other pieces.
O at the Edges 
No end to the metaphors you so adeptly mingle!
I wince at “separate peace” recognizing that I have such stashed deep inside, treasured even though I treasure even more my husband’s presence. Relationships. Trade-offs. And then those rocks to look under … don’t look, and you’ll never know what you missed …
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I can’t help but look under those rocks!
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I’ve found scorpions under those rocks, considered them lessons.
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A bit of caution while looking under rocks … !
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Scorpions, in all their guises!
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And they have many!
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I take comfort in knowing that I’m much larger than the scorpions!
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“You wanted that separate peace, the one kept boxed in the drawer for safekeeping…” That seems to be either a handgun or a bottle of bourbon…
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A hint of the ominous, I suppose. Or a straight razor, or…
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I look under that rock every day……
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Sometimes I find myself there…
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Fabulous.
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Thanks very much!
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