Leaving Nashville, 1952<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I\u2019m packed between suitcases and boxes
\ninto the back seat of a Buick Dynaflow. The view<\/p>\n
blocked, the air thick with Dick\u2019s Camels
\nand my mother\u2019s Herbert Tareytons.<\/p>\n
I try to filter my breath
\nwith Kleenex\u2014<\/p>\n
the asthma isn\u2019t fooled. On the way out of town, Dick swings into a gas station. and another car slips in front. for his .45 automatic in the glove box. and my pleading mother\u2019s grip I can barely breathe.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Leaving Nashville, 1952” is reprinted from Boston Literary Magazine.<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n David Stallings<\/a> was born in the U.S. South, raised in Alaska and Colorado before settling in\u00a0Washington State. Once an academic geographer, he has spent many years\u00a0promoting public transportation in the Puget Sound area. His poems have appeared in\u00a0several North American and U.K. literary journals and anthologies.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Leaving Nashville, 1952 I\u2019m packed between suitcases and boxes into the back seat of a Buick Dynaflow. The view blocked, the air thick with Dick\u2019s Camels and my mother\u2019s Herbert Tareytons. I try to filter my breath with Kleenex\u2014 … Continue reading
\nHow will I make it all the way to Alaska?<\/em><\/p>\n
\nThe trailer we\u2019re towing slows us down,<\/p>\n
\nAsshole!<\/em> my new stepfather roars, and grabs<\/p>\n
\nAll I see is his arm<\/p>\n
\non his wrist.<\/p>\n