Coarse grass, outcrops of tawny rock. Thickets
of trees matted with dry leaves. The twisted remnants
of a wire fence wreathed with brambles. Maybe
a bird flying in an unforeseeable direction,
and, naturally, the wind, blowing southwest.
Lastly, a small figure walking down the highway
over the eroded paint and cracked asphalt,
singing because there’s no one to hear it.
– Rebekah Curry
Rebekah Curry’s primary qualifications are having lived in the state for over sixteen years and having made attempts at poetry for over ten. She is currently a student at the University of Kansas, where she is majoring in Classics.