Bayou, River City, Beantown
Joshua Jones We drove until our backs curled into barbed wire and our butts sank their forms in the leather seats. Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, North and South Carolina, and Virginia. And our butts, their forms sunk in the leather seats, thanked us when we fell face down in bed, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama all behind us. My mom, our sometime hostess, thanked us when we fell face down in bed for getting out of her already ruffled hair. All behind us, my mom, our sometime hostess, wished we’d never made it quite this far. To get out of her already ruffled hair, next day we drove until our backs curled into barbed wire⸺ wished we’d never made it quite this far and stopped in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, or Alabama. |
Joshua Jones originally from the Shenandoah Valley, is a third year candidate for the MFA in creative writing at UMass Boston. He has poems published in or forthcoming from Fourteen Hills, Coldnoon: Travel Poetics, and The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review among others. He lives in Dorchester with his wonderfully nerdy wife Lesleigh and their miniature dachshund Guinivere.
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