By Daniel Thomas
When I steer it backwards
into a curbside spot,
I know this steel skin
down to the very inch,
and while I’ve walked the sidewalk,
refusing words, listening
to footsteps, watching leaf
shadows wave, never
until yesterday have I
made my mind a blank
and watched the white stripes
pulse by, the cars
beside me floating in the heat.
In emptiness and stillness,
I miss my exit, lose
my way, arrive.
Daniel Thomas’s collection of poetry, Deep Pockets, won a 2018 Catholic Press Award. He has published poems in many journals, including Southern Poetry Review, Nimrod, Poetry Ireland Review, Atlanta Review, and others. He has an MFA in poetry from Seattle Pacific University, as well as an MA in film and a BA in literature. Also by this poet: "Theory of Happiness" and "Without Rain"