Kim Young



Divided Highway

Over this asphalt, I let each cactus
each unfolding mile of dust, each pole

each turning worry-become ash and light
through a wide glass windshield.

I am not a barn owl or Torrey Pine. I'm not the crows
or candy wrappers flying. I'm not going home to get my rifle.

I'm singing. My song is like laundry blowing
on a line. Here I am! Here I am!

I'm driving eight-five. I'm eating bacon again.
I'm not slowed by the high speeds at which we race

toward that final dark suit, not just pressed and clean
but patiently waiting. I hold on to the steering wheel.

I know exactly where I'm going.

- Kim Young

Kim Young's work has recently appeared in 5am, askew, Pebble Lake Review, POOL, and The Bedside Guide To No Tell Motel. Her poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and was a runner-up in the 2006 dA Center for the Arts poetry contest. A chapbook titled, Divided Highway is forthcoming from dancing girl press.