Posts Tagged ‘ Rebecca Wolff ’

Poetry: Rebecca Wolff


Sometimes even now I get this feeling

riding in the back of a small truck, covered wagon, ruched aperture to night sky, repurposed army truck, 2 am and I’m bouncing with a half dozen other hitchhikers, transient, youthful, with the soi-disant lorry driver away from the Calais ferry dock en route to Paris, overnight. To arrive at dawn. I’m traveling alone and I don’t speak the language, much. The ferry ride was rough and fluorescently lit in the cargo hold where we rode. The truck is dark and silent, jostling over ruts—no one chats. I just look out the back
the back of the truck
into dark road disappearing behind
watching it grow lighter
in my watching
my youthful
limited—only so much of it has happened
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