Mar/Apr 2015 • Vol. XXXVII No. 2 Poetry |

On the Road

We are trying to get pregnant so everything makes me weep: the amorphous metal sculpture shaped like a tree on fire outside the regional airport. A young woman with prosthetic legs standing in baggage claim. And at the gate in Detroit, a father stroking his daughters hair while she slept, head in his lap. My motel is in a strip mall, next to Lowe's Home Improvement, and when I walk out into the world, into the acres of parking lot that reek of fertilizer and blacktop, I am ashamed of my ownimpatience, that drives me to CVS for a First Response Rapid Result pregnancy test stick, which will pink up to one line or two. Next, the Denny's, where a pair of day laborers in from Mississippi drink sweet tea at the counter, tell the waitress they renovate houses, ask where folks go to party around here. They both have home-tattoos; the one with "Thug Life" on the side of his calf—he lost all his money riverboat gambling, says didyouhear abo

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My Pronoun

By Jane Hirshfield

We are trying to get pregnant so everything makes me weep: the amorphous metal sculpture shaped like a tree on fire outside the regional airport. A young woman with prosthetic […]

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