Lobo | A Poem
by L.M. Browning, an except from Drive Through the Night
Drive through the night
lost in the miles
the lone wayfarer
ever in motion.
Be gentle long night
I don’t belong here.
Thrown to the wolves
I shifted nocturnal.
Arced up, surrendered to
the glowing drum
of the full moon,
hear my howl.
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8,947 miles later, I know now why you refuse the say the names of those dead-to-you-yet-still-breathing—afraid as you are of the monsters are still under the bed—yet in the silence, you give them immortality…
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Ride this life hard
—barebacked, bone-shaken.
Drive Through the Night | A Poem
we might outrun the sun
and not see the sight awaiting
in the bare daylight
