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by Beebe Barksdale-Bruner

By the time we leave the clinic,
diagnosis hanging, it is raining.  
We follow a dark pickup freighted
with teen boys, unafraid
of getting wet. One bump 
or swerve on this slick street 
will toss these light weights from their bed.
To their own blasting music, the boys laugh 
at the old couple behind.
They can't hear our meditative Brahms 
or see past the moment.
Speaking softly to each other 
we skid into their tailgate 
as if to prove our point.

Beebe Barksdale-Bruner has an MFA in poetry from Queens University and a forth-coming book of poetry from Press 53 in 2007. She has a background in fine arts, a BFA in painting from UNC-Greensboro and work and awards in ceramics. She lives in Charlotte, NC with husband and 4 irresponsible cats.