A Wake

Keri Withington

I took the lake road home from the neurologist’s office.
It’s pretty
and I can’t
deal with traffic
right now.
Wings flap in the cottongrass by the road
tips of ebony,
smudges of white and rust.
From his carseat in the back, my son claps,
Birds! Big birds!
His big sisters chime in, bored of the drive,
It looks like they’re kissing.
Mum, look! Those cute birds are kissing.
They’re not kissing;
they’re fighting over roadkill.
I could intervene, but I’m so tired.
The doctor’s words still flap through my head
without a place to land
more testing needed
brain scans
possible medications
and I know the kids will need dinner when we get home,
the laundry will need changing, they’ll have homework.
Beside me, my husband lifts his head from the cool
car window, lifts his phone
What’s a flock of buzzards called?
Siri, what is a flock of buzzards called?

About Keri Withington

Keri Withington’s (she/her) poems have appeared widely, including in her two chapbooks: Constellations of Freckles (Dancing Girl Press) and Beckoning from the Waves (Plan B Press). Withington lives with her family, pets, and plants in the Appalachian foothills. You can find her teaching for Pellissippi State or on FB (@KeriWithingtonWriter).

Honourable Mentions

A heartfelt thanks to everyone who participated in the competition, with special mention to: Mark Thomas, Marisa Gedgaudas, J.D. Gevry, J. Samuel Thacher, Veronica T. Gomelsky and Carole Greenfield.