Member Local 41
I'm pulling up to the dock
doors of past decades over
learning my mother had
once been a member of
The International Brotherhood
of Teamsters, and two
episodes of disbelief later
I can hear the labored
breathing of old trucks
and all things mechanical
nearly milling to moonlight
up the Arkansas mountains
down Monteagle steepness
with a wide windshield
vibrating its one chord
verse and chorus while
some terrified trucker's
cornbread cobbler slid
from the post-suppertime
seat to a floorboard full
of cold tools as my mom
in Kansas City, Missouri
shipping and receiving
department had traded a
day shift apron for extended
warehouse hours and a world
of old bridges now mixing with
Dark night's unexpressable
divinity basket-mom's rising
as a Mother's Day flower
maybe a snow country lily
or Monet's bluest iris forever
planted by the heart's
mile marker number 74.
David S. pointer is a widely published poet in the small press. Recent publications include Rusty Truck Zine, Black-Listed Magazine, and Sex and Murder magazine.
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