Set free from ghosts of another time,
the permission of language,
trembling with audacious voice,
each word, a bravura:
Speeding through Arizona darkness,
she grips the steering wheel and
stares out the car window.
An old Indian, stooped under
the weight of a blanket
draped over his shoulder,
appears and walks beside her car.
Then he is no longer there.
She finds none of this surprising.
Full moon, bullet hole
in clear night sky,
now visible in the narrow crevice
between mountain peaks,
she descends into the desert valley.
Reaching for what few coherent words
of ancient context remain,
she begins to speak.
Lucinda Marshall is a writer, artist, and activist. She lives in a far ex-urb of Washington, DC where she is a connection maker and dystopic optimist. She frequently participates in open mics and writing workshops, and currently co-facilitates the Gaithersburg Teen Writing Club. She is also a member of the Maryland Writers’ Association and Women, Action, and the Media. Her recent and upcoming poetry publications include One Sentence Poems, Stepping Stones Magazine, Poetica Magazine and ISLE. She is also the author of numerous published essays, articles and blogs at Reclaiming Medusa. Connect with her at Reclaiming Medusa on Facebook or at Medusa Musings on Twitter.