Hunger

I was in doughnut mind. The scenery passed by on its own.
Hills rolling to the west, their red newly rising
from the last dregs of winter. To the east, Washoe Lake
spread like a spill on a countertop. Five wild horses
near the fence nibbling stubbles. Five! Wild! Horses!
A California plate. A black pick-up, the spine of a mammal—
sheep, goat—threaded along the antenna. A motorcycle,
the T-shirt reading Keep Tahoe Armed. Hell-bent for Reno,
never mind the particulars, Nevada’s broad bare belly
stretching out before me, I was tracking down my people,
the ones I hoped would greet me, welcome me as their own.
Like Donners chasing Hastings. The never-ending search.
The self’s bottomless appetite, the craving to be known.
Only one. Maple frosted buttermilk bar. A thing to count on.

***

Kathy Nelson, 2019 recipient of the James Dickey Prize (Five Points, A Journal of Literature and Art) and twice nominated for the Pushcart, is a graduate of the Warren Wilson Program for Writers. In addition to her two chapbooks, Cattails and Whose Names Have Slipped Away, and her full-length The Ledger of Mistakes, forthcoming from Terrapin Books, her work has appeared in The Cortland Review, LEON Literary Journal, New Ohio Review, Southern Poetry Review, Tar River Poetry, Twelve Mile Journal, Valparaiso Poetry Review and elsewhere.