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SpiritualAnimal, the workshop of Brett Engle


Across this country and world
there is a long string of
cords and chatter,
boxes, poles.

And me,
riding in a Cadillac
on any pleasant day,
when my grandma
could still drive...
I knew.

Watching those lines
telephone play
shadows bouncing on the blacktop
as we drove legally,
careful to things,
cautious...

I felt beautiful;
I brought the sun behind me.
But now I transport her,
watch her grow
in a backwards way

and a small-sad cry escapes me.

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Included in the book: Beside Myself, Words + Art
Read more poetry on the writing page.
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