Trucks rumble—the hustle and the hum Of gears gas engine exhaust choke POTHOLE and there’s a cut on the forehead, Red over the white frightened eyes in the dark. She bends down over POTHOLE her baby And she knows what’s coming next but it hasn’t happened yet, So she cradles and coos and tries not to think About the kennel they’ll put her son in, With the chainlink door and the concrete floor and the ugly foil blanket made for... Read more