“Muse with Long Neck” oil on canvas, by Darwin Leon.

The daily papers in the back
seat spread atop the old women
who’ve come from the sex factory–
their mouths replaced
by labia, the desert beneath
their skirts sewn shut. The
passenger side is stacked
with old bones, like firewood.
Dead children and husbands,
parents and forgotten aunts,
polished ivory agleam
from years of travel. The driver’s
foot pumps the accelerator.
She leans into the wheel,
eyes squinting in the dimming
light. A ship of toothless smiles,
coy giggles–but the car
stands still, waiting, waiting
for the traffic light–three
black moons hung
above–to change.

Beverly Jackson is a poet, painter and writer living in Naples, Florida. She is widely published on the web and in print: credits here. She is currently working on a memoir “The Loose Fish Chronicles,” excerpts of which can be found here.

Read an interview with Bev here.