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Left. Right? (Of) Way

I traveled to teach.*

I wanted to go home.

But someone said

I elected to stay,

Not for the difference

I would

it could


I hoped the space I chose to take,

the impact,

wouldn’t impact,

another's space.


One night of dreams


Words and limbs breathe,

Tucked under night’s quilted expanse.

Still, I saw them,

Before I saw them,

I didn’t hit them,

the bodies.

Strewn (Gather)

Their lives. Their days.

Reflections in calm mirrors


Because someone couldn't wait.

I didn’t hit them,

But I use this road,

Support this

Questions and answers

Away. A way?

Is there? There is. Theirs. Their.

I leave(s)


I am grateful for their falling.

Might avoid my tires,

Of their cycle


Then forced.


*The idea of driving down a country highway at night forces me to confront the impact of what would happen if I wasn't in that place at that time. Everything may be fine, or, I may be the cause of another living being's worst day. I had one such drive on the way to being a guest instructor. The idea of being a expert, always pulls me back to the impact created by my time in Guatemala. An upcoming essay to be published, 'Fit to Serve' speaks to this dissonance. I combined this uncertainty of the impact when your body or words is passing through with voices from YA literature this year. Combined with our social and political climate, those words are variations of a highway lane that is neither left, nor right, but still a kind of right (of) way.


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