Poem in The Color Wheel, Terrapin Books

Thanks to Diane Lockward and Terrapin Books for including this poem in the new anthology, The Color Wheel. I am honored to be included with such amazing and renowned authors as Ted Kooser, Edward Hirsch, Sidney Lea, Betsy Sholl, Kim Addonizio, and Dorianne Laux. And that's just a few. There are 117 poets. Here's my contribution:

Journey

I see the world from behind two blades,

windshield wipers that never quite clean

the rest-colored crust of an insect or let go

of a green piece of leaf caught in the hinge.

The clock on the dashboard is wrong.

Music from the radio keeps time

with the rain, never breaking rhythm,

raspy song of rubber fast on the highway.

On my journey, you are a distant place,

the road empty of others. I pass the dark

buildings, vacant lots; listen to my breath,

block out the pounding sounds

on the pavement, hear my own heartbeat.

I know the feeling of being inside,

inside the lamplight beginning to burn

as I turn the corner of your street, inside

the cool walls of your bedroom, inside

the heat of the 40-watt bulb by your head

inside the skin of your sheets, inside

the space between desire and sleep, where

all that is fragile has entered you, spread

across your flesh like wrinkles, wound

through your hair like gray. You whisper

"stay," to the small of my palm, my cheek,

to all I thought was without need.

Linda Annas Ferguson