Driving Home

by Jenna Plewes

The road is reeling him in
mile after mile after mile,
pulling him through dark waters.

Needlefish aim for his eyes,
shoal after shoal hit the glass,
he stares ahead, unblinking,

feels the line tighten, then slacken
the hook deep in his gut holds.
He lets the night stream past,

conjures her voice, smell of her skin,
paper-thin feel of her fingers,
replays their wordless conversation.

Wipers click a mantra in his head,
the tug and tear of severing
is still to come.