By Jenny Ward Angyal
Gibsonville, North Carolina, USA
clear-cut . . .
the quavering cry
of a screech owl
I am driving up Rte. 7 in rural Connecticut. A quarter-mile past my childhood home, an infamous curve threads its way between Straits Rock and the Housatonic River. Torrential rain pelts the windshield. On the dashboard, a life-sized Trump bobblehead blocks my view.
dark of the moon—
the dreamer stirs
yet cannot wake