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.