When I left her in the small house, the tiny one
with only two room, two windows, two burners
on the stove. The one in the shady part of town,
on the busy road, the white paint dirty. When I left her
there and drove off fast, I imagined
someone else at the wheel.
Sue Scavo lives in Vermont and the liminal spaces of poetry and dreaming. Her poems have appeared in various journals and anthologies.