|
Roll With It
You begin traveling.
The wheels turn and creak beneath
your mountain of food, the coffee cans
bouncing over bins of flour with every bump.
Blizzard.
Trapped in snow for three days,
you curse the month of March and your companions,
who have already eaten all of your apples.
You decide to continue.
You are still traveling.
The wheels turn and squish, sinking
into muddy water that rushes to tip you over.
The river is too high.
As your favorite sweater flies downstream
you curse the things you have lost:
three articles of clothing, a month’s worth of flour,
and Mary (drowned).
You decide to continue.
The wheels turn and creak, cracking
on the craggy trail. Jed has cholera.
As you pause to repair and rest, you curse
the rock that snapped your axle.
You regret choosing to be a banker instead of a carpenter.
You decide to continue. Jed is well again.
An ox died.
You have reached Fort Hall. You are still traveling.
You curse the inflated price of butter, the heat,
the thieves who stole your hunting rifle.
You decide to continue.
The wheels turn and creak, drowning
out your rumbling stomach. You changed the rations
to Bare Bones.
(You curse the wagon fire that melted your bullets.)
You keep traveling. Jed has typhoid. Jacob
got lost. Searching for him, you stumble
upon twenty pounds of wild fruit.
You decide to continue down the river.
The wheels sit in silence,
strapped to the raft that finally floats you into Oregon.
-By Jenna Mae Hula-Hoop Hicks
|