Rumble Strip

For non-drivers a dead man’s
curve exposes an inner belt
deep within. Just as suddenly,
just as lethal, just as exhilarating

for the survivor. But I
don’t know if I should accelerate
around this grief.

Onomatopoeia

She takes the high road
through fog infested woods.
Nothing visible

but the flight of leaves
as she rounds curves

and moves on. That whoosh is

the voice of vertigo
she leaves behind when it’s time
to make a new noise.