by Meredith Devney
I push then pump overpriced unleaded
into my tank, listen to the rushed hush-
hush through the hose that sounds
more like a mountain stream
than gasoline - tiny silver fish
swimming in a fury of clear water
to fuel my car.
The concrete beneath my feet is stained,
and it is certain: Manhattan will dissipate
under the Atlantic. But still,
my fingers squeeze tighter
only to fill faster.
Meredith Devney has just completed her MFA at Emerson College in Boston, MA. While at Emerson she was an instructor of writing as well as a staff member of the literary journal, Ploughshares. She has several articles published, and is just now submitting poetry for publication.
