John Brantingham
John Brantingham was Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks’ first poet laureate. His work has been featured in hundreds of magazines. He has twenty-one books of poetry, memoir, and fiction including his latest, Life: Orange to Pear (Bamboo Dart Press) and Kitkitdizzi (Bamboo Dart Press). He lives in Jamestown, New York.
Driving through Western New York at Night after Having Taught English in a Prison
When I get close
to the gas station
that never closes,
I slow down
and drive as far
to the left
as I can.
So many people
in town are awake
and walking
onto the dark highway
because they’re chased
by whatever memories
disturb their nights.
They’re looking
for the comforts
they have
found in beer
and the trans fats
of the Pringles
they ate during
childhood church
picnics when
everyone in town
would gather
and everyone
would laugh
with a single voice
and they danced
with the kid
down the road,
and they learned
that love could be
a balm.
These are
my sisters
and brothers.
I wish I could
let them know
they are not alone.
Driving through Western New York at Night after Having Taught English in a Prison
Two of the signs pointing to my town
are twenty feet off the side of the road,
so my headlights do not hit them
at night. It’s as if the sign placers
never supposed there would be
a need for anyone to work late
into the night and try to get home
through the snow, as if they thought
we would all live naturally,
waking and sleeping with the sun,
as if they never imagined
the rigidity of a prison schedule.
