Our
car paces a truck.
The truck is hauling
detached automobile bumpers,
secured to a flatbed.
The mountains are white with snow
in the distance.
The clouds are as big as Montana.
Even now I forgive you.
Harold
Bowes edits Alba: A Magazine of Short Poetry. His work has appeared
in or is forthcoming from Snow Monkey, Pig Iron Malt, Portland
Review, Tundra, Acorn and Black Bough.
He
lives and writes from Pendleton, Oregon.
