What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

Drifting sideways (Dear Shadwick 4)

D

My mind wheezes, lurches to unsteady feet, these days vertigo is my closest friend, cruel and thirsty, all consuming, all the rumors of my demise are only slightly right, no, I did not die in the accident, I walked away fine enough, and yet still here I am in a limbo of my own making, this road-side purgatory resisting story and impulse to flee, of course I know I’m free to go, sir, but oh, what I’ll be dragging after me, much more than these dead arms, having shouldered so much, even before, though these storm-born blackouts are new enough, they’re not the consequence of concussive force, muddled mind lifetime long, well-worn and threadbare plot devoid of fruit, only snowdrifts left, and twisted metal, and you, your words still echo through the flat frozen plain somehow, warm lungs filling without air, without mouth, no wind to carry, no weight nor wave, against logic and physics, this is what you say: I see you stuck and stumbling, out in the shit, but you are not in it here alone, and we won’t always have to stay
God, if you can get me through this one, I’ll start believing in you
ac

(Inspiration and title from “Wheel” by Quiet Hollers)

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What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

About Andrew.

Andrew Cartwright grew up in Indianapolis, IN, but has lived over the years in such places as Denver, CO; Fairfax, VA; and Rivne, Ukraine. He is a former nonfiction editor for both Indiana Review and phoebe; he has also worked for the intersectional feminist journal, So To Speak, and the national literary magazine, Electric Literature. His work has appeared in The Normal School Online, Copper Nickel, Esquire Ukraine, Literary Hub, and Word Riot.

For more information about me and links to other writing, visit my author page at cartwriter.com

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