SARAH WASHBURN THORNTON

Guthrie, Texas

Don’t turn your back on the open plains.
You don’t know what’s behind you. 
It’s all open and 
it’s all behind you
no matter which way you turn.

A Hunter moon in Aires 
bright enough to drive without headlights 
in silky-black-pre-dawn-morning, 
before the sky slinks 
from ink to indigo. 

The highway goes on forever in both directions.
You, a stationary point, 
road forming and dissolving, a mist carries you
through featureless cornfield– 
wonder if you’re moving at all. 

Everyone here knows about the shape shifters. 
Living in the desert. 
When you see one, 
they look familiar-almost-perfect, except-not-quite. 
Animals' eyes glow at night, 
that’s how you tell. 

The road forms and vanishes beneath you, 
The corner of your eye may see red lights 
moving through the field beside you, 
faster and faster until they overtake you 
and leave you behind. 

Your back is exposed 
for miles and miles 
of uninterrupted sight line.
If you don’t keep a close eye you’ll notice 
your shadow begins to move without you.