“The safest place” by Pauletta Hansel

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I knew to be was lying on the ledge
above the back seat of my parents’ car,
behind the murmur of their voices,
my father’s whistle—wordless song—
the forked tongue of smoke
from his cigarette, dividing,
wisping out the barely open window,
spiraling back to me.
Before me lies
the past, the wide
ribbon of road
dissolving and there
is nothing to be done
but let the tuneless hum
of tire against pavement
whisper me to sleep.

-Pauletta Hansel

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