Issue Thirty-Seven - Winter 2021

Lapse

By Samantha Malay

lack of a plan felt like reason enough
to follow half-truths as if they were favors
sandwiches assembled on a plywood scrap
by whoever sat in the passenger seat

and sort the belongings of the recently dead
in a mobile home park outside San Bernardino
cactus in gravel at the edge of the road
TV too close to the couch

what I can claim is what I remember
crossing the border with pink paper flowers
streets with names like cowboy songs
ice on the floor in Victorville
the ocean only a shape on a map

Copyright Malay 2021

Samantha Malay ’s work recently appeared in TINGE Magazine and In Parentheses, and will soon be published by Kind Writers and Five South. She was born in Berlin, Germany, grew up in rural northeastern Washington State, and is a graduate of Seattle University’s sociology program. A theatrical wardrobe technician by trade, she is also a mixed-media artist and poetry editor in residence at Flying Ketchup Press. Her published words can be found at https://thistleandhasp.wordpress.com.

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