II.

Our way is the way,

they whispered over my cradle.

This is how we live,

kissed into skinned knees.

In my cap and gown,

There is no need for something new.

I wanted to tell them what I’d seen

since leaving--

red rocks and cactus spines,

peacock cicadas humming for a mate,

land so flat, I swear I could see Chicago.

But their world was limited to 

Main Street and Franklin Court.

My letters returned,

unopened.

My calls were sent to voicemail.