Sarah Ann Winn
ODE TO THE PULL-OFF ON THE I-95 BETWEEN HAVRE DE GRACE AND EXIT 4B
I think I am in love with you,
you slender haven,
you shady unbarreled reprieve
from orange blinking lights.
You draw me in to your white lined embrace,
your back yard picnic table.
You comfort me in traffic
with your slight lean to the right.
Under construction, 95 is a sleek eel,
menacing and shoulderless,
skin flecked with wrecks and bottlenecks,
glassy eyed on a north-south current.
I rejoice in your lack of ditch, your ease.
You envelop me—I walk the dog while
you mimic park birdcalls.
If the other drivers should glance over,
see us dallying here, let them look.
We are a blur of grace proven greenly.
Sarah Ann Winn lives in Fairfax Virginia. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Apeiron Review, [d]ecember, Flycatcher, Lost River Review, Lunch Ticket, Massachusetts Review and NonBinary Review, among others. Visit her at bluebirdwords.com or follow her @blueaisling on Twitter.