Copyright © Chris Young, 2004. All Rights Reserved.MARTHA'S MOMENT
she must have been a million miles this way toward me I wasn't
sure she must have been asking for a way
through what I couldn't be sure there would even be road to
travel I never asked from which direction
she had been led at which sign
she had turned from which place and why
she wasn't saying exactly where she thought she would be
when it was all over she wasn't very young
and not quite old all but a few lines seemed new
around her eyes I could've said anything
still I'm not sure it mattered I said what I knew I know
now it happened in only a few minutes and for weeks
I kept thinking I told her there would be nothing
between here and the highway nothing more than a few barns
Frank Mitchell's fields full of corn and tobacco the bridge
is one-way wait and when no one is there on the other side
cross with your headlights on that road will take you
to the next town to the corner where the only diner that's open all the
time sits someone there
has lived lifetimes in these parts someone there can tell you
how to get out without forever winding back
into the same low hills she asked my name and I told her
how long it might take if she made it before dark
mornings I drive sometimes before daylight washes across these
winter fields with my hands hard on the wheel I drive out
past the first lighted windows the people just arriving
for an early breakfast and I say my name I hear my name
is Martha here I hear her just before she leaves