Carol Berg
Cousins Island, Again
This is the moment when two lane roads tug and buck beneath you long-legged creatures screeching in the woods When you step into the jeep and night puts on its sharp grin This is when his mouth opens like the current rushing in at high tide This is the moment when escape puts her hand on the silvery cold handle of the jeep door but refuses to pull This is the moment his face above you in the backseat of your cousin’s jeep Wolf man Wolf moon What does he do with his hands What does he do with his teeth This is when you split open like a sapling pine tree This is when you slip who you were before out of the car push her down to the edge of the water and who swims and swims This is what you name island
Carol Berg has poems forthcoming or in Fifth Wednesday Journal, Pebble Lake Review, Rhino, Sweet, Tattoo Highway, and elsewhere. She has an MFA from Stonecoast and an MA in English Literature.
