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"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Travis Stephens


Passing Mile 121

This could be any road
any scruff of gravel, asphalt
along any road. Look closer
for the shreds of plastic, glass
or that greasy smear of tire.
Weeds still dance to passing cars,
cattle graze nearby, looking at me.
You nine-hundred pound lumps
of hamburger on the hoof—don't
look at me. No knife is sharp enough.
This road is busy at this time of day.
I kick at the ground, unwilling to forgive God
not for what he has taken but
for the world's casual acceptance
that it will happen again.