after Lucinda Parker
delay the oncoming studebaker
clouds pink as the sun, bright
against the sea-mist sky.
pat the rolls, pat the rocks,
waft your hand through heavens.
there the clouds,
there the mountains
we cannot follow the clouds where they want to go.
(down in the foothills a girl dances
for rain to kiss the papery grass.
her mother scratches her arms
and waits for some sort of shunt.
the strings of drought
reverberate for the tambourining
fingers of rain
pebbling over bluffs,
the land a raspy soloist
twiddling for the clashing chorus
of more-than clouds
arriving late in a studebaker.)
instead, there they are,
halted by our pregiven classifications.
Shelby Weisburg is currently a third-year student at Willamette University, where she is majoring in English with a focus in creative writing and expects to graduate in May 2020. She has been previously published in Oakland Arts Review, Cornell’s Rainy Day, FLARE: The Flagler Review, and Blacklist Journal. When she’s not writing, she works in the Oregon State Legislature, watches re-runs of SNL, and enjoys bouldering. She calls Colorado home.