Where the Hutchinson Parkway Turns into the Merritt by Christine Aletti

I drove into the wall just to feel something

concrete.  My sedan erupted into a darkening

field, where purple loosestrife begged

 

for wind. Paranoid drained of body,

who else is there  to stand on?

 

I stand to agree with soil— We miss

our wetness and  are sick of waiting for beetles

to come and hum  I’m sorry, so sorry  for disturbances

of your ground.

 

All around me metal scraps tell the stars

to change ways, de construct cross-stitched beauty

petal by petal to  not forget the roots.  What’s been

 

broken: sand stone water.   Goodbye,

goodbye bones sew your own holes while I

invade the wind.

 

Author Bio
Christine Ella Aletti holds in MFA in Poetry from Sarah Lawrence College and has taught writing to at-risk youths in both New York City and Florida. Currently, she sells pest elimination services for a large corporate conglomerate, which causes anguish when she considers a possibility of a Buddhist rebirth. Her work can be found at christineella.net.