When we try to pick something up by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. ~John Muir Everyone remains forever hitched on spools of past occurrences: uninsured car crash worth two bumbling lawyers and a life’s worth of saving, but the crash stopped traffic and each expanding bit of universe, layers all whip-stitched, spiral-bound until the thread is tugged and unraveled, spinning into frayed gossame leads one to another. I am a single rung on a cluttered ladder stitched beneath atoms and stubbed toes; angry people wanting to buy the new toy on a tech store shelf, a little girl dropping ice cream on the concrete, I am the cop whose task was to salvage three charred bodies from a dead home of three (dog included). Unraveled cop car crash: the family man heads home, now poor, his daughter’s dreams poured into a lawyer who failed to win the case, and sets fire to slumber. The cop, whose lawyer won, arrives at the scene and absorbs the shorn ravels of interwoven fates.
Christina Montana is currently a fourth year student at the University of Florida. She is studying English with a focus in creative writing, as well as obtaining a minor in anthropology. Predominantly a novelist and short fiction writer, this is her first poetry publication.