South

a poem by Samantha Malay

inside my suitcase
in the trunk of the rental car
clothes wrinkle around motel soaps and rolls of film
the horizon floats above the dashboard

another summer
swimsuit straps tied at my neck
I leaned out the window
yellow lines slid under shadows of tires

lock the screen door
when the yard gets dark
I’ll call from a pay phone
when I’m close to the border

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