A poor boy promised me a textbook view
of the stars. No snaking city lights
from a crown of downtown buildings,
Medusa-like in their paralyzing beauty.
He drives the dark highway
and I hold him to his word, he turns
onto a roughly paved hillside.
Stiff black trunks and treetops wave
goodbye from the roadside. Visions of policemen
in orange reflective vests
pulled by search dogs for a scent,
a scrap of cloth, follows me into the field.
He places a hand on the dip of my back
to guide me, like Hades, into his world.
Copyright © 2015 by Sjohnna McCray. Used with permission of the author.