By Katie Rendon Kahn
We are still miles away,
and though the day is clear
and I deliberately travel
far below the limit,
just as I have come to expect.
I switch lanes before she can ask
because I know she will ask
long before we get to the bridge.
Mother shifts, anxiety a knot
always in her throat.
She watches over both our shoulders
to make sure history
doesn’t repeat itself today.
She pictures his accident
in still frames, as soon as the bridge’s
crest rises into view.
She tries to rewrite the ending.
She shakes scrap metal
and missing son from memory,
exhales blood alcohol levels.
I pry her bitten-bare fingers
from her mouth
and tell her we have to cross
the bridge when we get to it.
Katie Rendon Kahn lives on the Gulf Coast of Florida, where she chases adventure and
poetry prompts with her children. Her poems have appeared in Blackwater Review, Broken
Publications, Diverse Voices Quarterly, The Barefoot Review, Rising Phoenix Press, Poetry Breakfast, The Panhandle Focus, and various blogs. Kahn won the Blackwater Review’s Editor’s Prize in 2012
and 2014. She and her 11-year-old daughter have written a children's book series called,
World Adventures, focusing on the acceptance of other cultures. Kahn also self-published
her first poetry collection titled, “Phantom Limbs,” in 2014.