I’ll never forget us
entraining this freight at dusklight
to escape cabbage farms, rusted barns
and Bible-barkers who stumble
through starrified nights.
Will our fear follow us?
We poach peaches off pallets
and lick juicedrips off our lips
like it’s all we know,
on the road to salvation—
me, carving a heart into the wood
and you, a miracle
in the moonshine, grabbing hold
of my trembling hand
like maybe we’re something holy.
This is a reprint of work originally published in Folio.
Despy Boutris is published or forthcoming in American Poetry Review, Copper Nickel, Colorado Review, The Adroit Journal, Prairie Schooner, Palette Poetry, Third Coast, Raleigh Review, Diode, The Indianapolis Review, and elsewhere. Currently, she teaches at the University of Houston and serves as Assistant Poetry Editor for Gulf Coast.