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"Sonnet (Come Undone): No. 7" — a poem by Heather Lang

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Scott Dickensheets

Heather Lang

Sonnet (Come Undone): No. 7


In Utah, the dotted lines seem to pull
the moving van up the incline not far
from Enoch. In the valley, a thick lull
brims with faded-golden waves of dust. Cars

pass them by as they talk about the view.
There’s no turning back. There are only one
-hundred-some miles left. Their ears pop to
the shifts in elevation, and they come

to sink beneath the coral-colored red
rocks. The striations are distinct. They hold
their breaths. Their eyes count the way down. Ahead
there will be crags, too. Perhaps a controlled

fall, in love, is the kind of kindness for
which anyone might hope. They are anchored

by the desert floor, and he curls both hands
around the steering wheel. She looks out and

explores the corsage blooms of the prickly
pears resting on the curves of their cacti

paddles. Heading for Nevada, they
make their way
                         home.  

 

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