by Steve Burke
The middle-of-the-night ride through the fogged-in hills,
the way the road can’t help but follow.
Curves the truth headlights try to defy.
The way the filament of infection
is creeping up my daughter’s arm: the first illustration
in a monograph on spider toxins.
The way something seems to be speaking through you
even when you don’t want it to.
Steve Burke’s poems have been published in a number of journals & magazines; has had two chapbooks – After The Harvest & For Now – published by Moonstone Press. He worked for many years as an obstetric nurse; lives in the Mount Airy section of Philadelphia.