Jane Andrews, Diagnosis

Jane Andrews
DIAGNOSIS

It’s like the time
you hit the dog on the highway
late at night, driving back
from the beach.

She turned her head
toward us,
eyes reflecting green
in the beams.

One lane coming,
one lane going,
through a marsh
of hidden peepers

and a shudder
passed through the car
into my chest.
Our daughter woke.

“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
We did not look at the road
behind us. Or at each other.

We never stopped moving.

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