“The Getaway”

by Crissty Allen

She sits stiff, with her hands in her lap.

Her powdery gray froze face yanks back

Stops and stares, with crossed arms.

Green eyes sunk as if they’ve seen enough.

Tramping dazed toward the back door

Nothing else steps ahead through that before.

And heading for the sandy stretch of year

In a few minutes a grape car slowing to the lane

Waving her hands; puffing up like a toad.

Peeking from the curve of the dirk road.

Peering back toward the opening in the dark

She steps toward, to the year and comes back

Hoping to keep them in the dark.