I’ve willed another ancient encounter
you on that corner blame it
on a lead foot the rain- lacquered flagstone
the moon low this new fog
where landfill turns to creek
I cut the engine when idle
strums the folds of my shirtsleeve
the hills the way they go
up on all sides here a dirtbike
will open the night air boiling
between foot and shifter the way I insist
here is no place to linger at a stop sign
Leia Darwish is an MFA candidate in poetry at Virginia Commonwealth University, and lead associate editor emerita at Blackbird. She has been nominated for an AWP Intro Journals award and her poetry and nonfiction have appeared in Copper Nickel, PANK, The Pinch, Southern Indiana Review, and elsewhere.