by Dejah Patterson

Above Kalama
A truck driver swerved
Slightly into my lane
Then corrected himself
When I honked
And swerved away.
In his side view mirror
I saw him staring at me
Grizzled and angry
And I thought of the ways
In which we encroach 
Upon our surrounding world
Stepping upon shadows
When we stray from our meridians.
I wonder
At what point
Did I look upon the world
Grizzled and nasty
Or at what occasion
Did I see shadows
As darkness?
In the cloister I build
In fear-mud like a swallow
Seeing narrowly outwards
Is it any wonder
I see one truck swerve
And hate his face
And miss
The grace of the sycamore
Swaying gently
Into the freeway.

Return to LSR Return to Poetry

Dejah Patterson has always loved writing, and has studied poetry, fiction, and third-person biography writing at the UO in Eugene, OR. She has won several awards for her writing, as well as five dollars from a lottery ticket, and hopes to pursue writing, traveling, and teaching as a career. Dejah is also a songwriter, a musician, and an artist, so if the whole writing thing falls through she’s got those other things going for her, which is nice. She hopes to make it big as a writer someday, so that she can get a roadie to write her bios for her.