J.W. Burleson photo / Boquillas del Carmen, Coah.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

"The Ford Country Squire" Jane Hilberry



The Ford Country Squire

At ten, when the Rector’s
family asked me to their cottage,
I was thrilled.  I sat

with the suntanned children
in the backseat and ate
from their bag of chips. 

The windows were sealed
in the air-conditioned station wagon,
and some fresh air

would have been good —
how fast the trees pass, how strangely
the earth spins—

and I a fugitive
from my own godless family,
trying to join

this church, this life—
But the leaves on the trees
curled and I followed,

doubled over, my mouth
hopeless and open
and there, on the new-

smelling floor mat,
I rejected the transplant.
I left my mark. 

                           -JANE HILBERRY

                           "The Ford Country Squire" appeared originally in the online journal Ohio Edit

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