Thomas Halloran – Ⅱ

Journey 

 

 

 

 

An old woman walks beside a road,

an empty road, next to a scrubby verge.

She seems possessed with going–

whether she cares where–

lugs her whole past forward on each step,

each plant of her knotted stick.

Whenever I look, she’s there,

stalking the next mile on,

the sky as vacant as the road.

This could mean I don’t know who I am.