that war
by Elizabeth Sackett
on the slipping,
the dark and the road
twitching its shoulders in sleep
we exist at night
to turn wheels
for my feet on dark pedals
for a gasp in my mother’s lungs
for my father sulking
for my sister and owl noises
in a maze driving through her mind
with its particular kind of
lighting and some shadow melts across
the street, uncast into solidity, solitude,
that warm war waving from each window
and then, minutes later,
slow black bicycles
slipping dangerously around a corner
nearly unseen
ÌÀÄ·ÊÓƵ the Author
Elizabeth Sackett earned a degree in writing from SUNY Geneseo, where she was the recipient of the Lucy Harmon Award in Fiction Writing. Her work has appeared in Gandy Dancer, Neon Literary Magazine, Subprimal Poetry Art, I Want You to See This Before I Leave, and Wild Musette, among other places. Her free time is often spent sketching animal skeletons.