End of the Road, CR 245

 

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.

 

 

 

4 thoughts on “End of the Road, CR 245

  1. This one sorta haunts me … especially peace locked (separate) in a drawer … also the sense of acknowledging how little I actually know about where I am (today, any day) and what might be right beneath the surface. You offer encouragement to go peek under some of the obstructions. Maybe into a few drawers …

    Liked by 1 person

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