Spring: Driving I-29 All across the flooded plains there were herons in the fields. Pelicans too. And in some places the interstate closed where a river spilled too close, where a farmer wept nearby, unable to till, unable to work. Emptiness or absence, and of course, surplus: they are all possible killers here. Early June with the birds moving, the land drenched, I drove through a livelihood on pause, chasing summer south to Oklahoma as all the birds from out of state cherished freely this pretty feeling of excess that felt so close to pain.
94 | PHOEBE 49.1
Fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, and art selected for phoebe's 49.1 issue.