Oh, you let go
The snow, you say, will end.
The days lengthen a minute at a time but I can't tell.
I go on, blink up, do the dishes, sometimes laundry.
My days go fine, like a three legged animal.
I would rather not say this:
Oh you, let go.
The highway white as anything
And you reading out loud the entire drive.
More than once I will wish I were home.
Snow ribbons across the road in wind.
More than once I will wish I were alone.
Heidi McKinley is a student of journalism at the University of Iowa. Her work has been featured in Kawsmouth, 1947, and Typehouse Literary Magazine.contact • website