Scenario

A montage of tragedy

haunts each highway

To the left,

a flash of whitetail

in the side mirror--

Its hard to know

which scenario will

challenge my maternal instincts.

As I lay on the side of the road,

antlers push our blood together;

I hope my children push the right button

and unlock the doors.

I listen to the sobs of misunderstanding,

and the eyes that desire triage.

They blend into the whir of wheels

and the owl questions.

They’ve been taught not to ask, but to act.

Quickly, these girls stretch out their arms and legs,

for what seems a dozen years,

and reach for a phone, and an umbrella.

Fingers command three buttons, and three names

are given: I must trust their messenger with nothing.

My newly minted women emerge,

take inventory on seat belts scissors

and badge digits,

and they see in my eyes what lies

ahead.

This is the scenario.

This is not practice.