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The way the darkness of early morning
blends with the stiffening leaves
and the hint of fog on the edges
on this October-chilled road, you’d almost miss
the black police cruiser perched in gravel,
lights off, a beard of steam pouring
from the exhaust pipe. When I first learned
to drive, we called them “lurkers”,
hiding on side roads, exit ramps, waiting.
This morning, though, I know she’s inside,
heat from the vents against her face,
scratching words soft into paper,
the poem that pulled her over.
Devon Neal (he/him) is a Kentucky-based poet whose work has appeared in many publications, including HAD, Stanchion, Livina Press, The Storms, and The Bombay Lit Mag, and has been nominated for Best of the Net. He currently lives in Bardstown, KY with his wife and three children.