Driving Through Iowa
Flat.
Row after row after row
Of green corn, waist high
That I look at and look at
Flanked by
A running commentary of
Crucified power wires.
I think
Of unlucky slaves
Dangling in thousands along
The Appian Way but a
Whizzing white line
Dividing traffic is more
To the point
A ribbon of bone that leads us on
To the farthest apex
Where the road winks out of vision,
Crown of a triangle
Just beyond sight.
The corn goes on,
The power poles
The road
All pouring along straight
As if there was a reason.
Joan Colby has published five books of poetry: The Atrocity Book, The Lonely Hearts Killers, How the Sky Begins to Fall, The Boundary Waters and Blue Woman Dancing in the Nerve. She has over 800 poems in such periodicals as Poetry, Atlanta Review, Hollins Critic, Portland Review and Barrelhouse. Recipient of a fellowship in literature from the Illinois Arts Council, Joan works as editor of Illinois Racing News, a publication for the Illinois racing and breeding industry and lives on a small horse farm in northern Illinois.