Allegheny hills flatten on ascent
carlights below I press my nose against
airplane glass as we bank I think the hillsides
rise just a bit just like breath before I left
Dad filled my washer fluid, Armor-alled the dash
I didn’t ask for Windex blue he is a man of few words
and many solvents. I packed last items glitter dress
satin heels he cleared snow off my windshield
started the ignition but listen: this is what a father does
he scrapes, wind blows because he hasn’t let her go
just yet she will live across the state and trace a path
engine ever humming bootbrush hills winter ever coming
leaving home it’s sunny second time this year
but the turnpike route, the windshield–both are clear.
Jessica Whipple writes for adults and children. She published two children’s picture books in 2023: Enough Is… (Tilbury House, illus. by Nicole Wong) and I Think I Think a Lot (Free Spirit Publishing, illus. by Josée Bisaillon). Her poetry has been published recently in Funicular, ONE ART, Pine Hills Review, and Identity Theory. Jessica’s poem “Broken Strings” (appearing in Door Is a Jar) received a Best of the Net and a Pushcart nomination. You can find her on Twitter/X @JessicaWhippl17.