We Drove

photo credit: Elliotphotos

we got in the car and just
drove. behind us, the shambling
wreck of our father bellowed
clasped at the air, choked
on our fumes. we drove

through the endless plains
cornfields walling us on both
sides, drove past
farmhouses on fire, overrun
with shambling wrecks
like our father, hands clasping at terrified
faces in the windows, hungry
for blood. we drove

until the cornfields faded to
mangrove swamps and scarlet
kudzu vines, until we could taste
the salt sweat of the ocean in every
breath. on the beach were other
refugees, driven from the heartland
all lined up, waiting for the boats
that were never going to come.

Holly Day

Holly is a freelance writer and mother of two living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Her poetry has recently appeared in The Midwest Quarterly, Pennsylvania English, and Coal City Review. Her recent books include Music Theory for Dummies, Music Composition for Dummies, and Guitar-All-In-One for Dummies, co-authored with Jim Peterik, former guitarist of the band Survivor.

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