Winner of the 2023 Contest in Poetry. Read judge Eduardo C Corral’s blurb here.
Endless Savings
The soybean
field where
your car
began to
spin is now
a glimmering
compound—
Costco, gas pumps,
the standard
apartments.
That lonely
telephone pole
towering over
the field
long gone,
reassigned to
some quiet
elsewhere. Your
car having
missed it
by inches.
If it weren’t
spinning in air,
the car would’ve
smacked you
across the face.
Mangled frame,
mangled field.
The end,
an alternating
current. Where
the wheels
began to lift
is where
the greeter
welcomes his
share of
fluorescence.
Flashes of
bulk sauce,
TVs over
a display
of blankets,
rainwater rushing
across a
sharp turn.
Anything you
could want.
Anything
to keep
you here.
You watched
the ground
settle as
the tires
stilled. Scent
of fireflies
lifting from
fresh tracks
where now
a gallon
of Tide is
marked down
to $18.99,
and I love
being alive.
I want to.