I’m at an exit ramp.
Behind me, orange haze
slants across a stadium of faces.


A horse lopes from indigo to yellow,
from where mockingbirds caw
to street lights on angled rows.


Ahead, a tornado.
Its approaching shadow
stretches the setting sun.


If I count memories as dreams,
a beacon delegates red.
If not, my future’s a forced line:
she’ll never return, not even as ghost.


Photo By: vjpaul


About Author

Tom Holmes is the editor of Redactions: Poetry, Poetics, & Prose and the author of seven collections of poetry, most recently The Cave, which won The Bitter Oleander Press Library of Poetry Book Award for 2013 and will be released in 2014. His writings about wine, poetry book reviews, and poetry can be found at his blog, The Line Break .

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