Can’t Pass the Blue Bus

Published in Lost in Tall Grass (Finishing Line Press 2014)

Up out of the valley
the road curves,
steeper and steeper.
Up toward the windmills
and their promises.

I keep up my speed.
Leave behind the unbreathable heat
that bakes the valley floor.
Bend with the road
up to the windmills. 

Until I see the blue bus
lumbering up ahead,
breathless, heart stopping blue
and know I will pass it
if I don’t slow down

which I do,
because I can’t pass the blue bus
carrying men once slippery wet
invisible, untouchable, behind mesh-covered windows
can’t watch it shrink to a tiny blue dot behind me and then
disappear. 

You ask why I don’t love you anymore.
How can I love without a heart?
There on the blue bus
full of mothers’ hearts.