Wendell Hawken

Our horses in the gooseneck,
We’re in this capsule of a truck cab
Headlights probing thick fog, hurtling through time
And space between white and double yellow lines.
Good way to hit a deer, he says. They move around
this time of morning.

Nancy Kleck photo The fox crossed here, a car followerPoints as the foxhound pack roils roadside,Takes the scent up onto the asphalt, Loses the line, circles back to churn againWhile one tri-color, by herself, crosses over, Scrambles up the stone wall, squeezes Through the boards on top, runs nose-downSerpentines until she finds, gives tongue On the fox’s line. The pack comes to her,Oh yes, hot fox, they bay, go screaming off as one. That’s the bitch I want to be. Wendell Hawken earned her MFA in Poetry at Warren Wilson College in Swannannoa, NC. Collections of her poems include, The Luck of Being, published by The Backwaters Press, Omaha, in 2008 and The Spinal Sequence by Finishing Line Press, Georgetown, Kentucky in 2013. Individual poems have appeared in literary magazines including Narrative, Shenandoah, Southern Poetry Review, and Poet Lore.... This content is for subscribers only.Log In Join Now