<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Driving the Front<\/strong><\/p>\n From Route 15, out the West Corinth Road It’s the edge of something frightening, unknown. (for J.E.)<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Anne Britting Oleson<\/strong> has been published widely in North America, Europe and Asia. \u00a0She earned her MFA at the Stonecoast program of USM. \u00a0She has published two chapbooks, The Church of St. Materiana (2007) and The Beauty of It (2010). Another book, Counting the Days, is scheduled for release next year.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Driving the Front From Route 15, out the West Corinth Road through a village long dead but unaware, on the McCard Road to Route 221; the Merrill Road, ruts carved in early mud, around Stetson Pond and finally to Route143: thirty miles home on a map\u2019s tiny capillaries in late afternoon, followed, shadowed, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5171","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5171","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5171"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5171\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5173,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5171\/revisions\/5173"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5171"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5171"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5171"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nthrough a village long dead but unaware,
\non the McCard Road to Route 221;
\nthe Merrill Road, ruts carved in early mud,
\naround Stetson Pond and finally to Route143:
\nthirty miles home on a map\u2019s tiny capillaries
\nin late afternoon, followed, shadowed,
\nheld close to the cold ground
\nby the clear definition of the front.<\/p>\n
\nI raise a hand to point it out to you,
\nbut you are not there, never have been.
\nSo much to explain in the late winter distances.
\nSo much to show you, should you care to see:
\nstill, right now, the sharp gray knife
\nof the front drives into my head,
\nworrying me about which side you’re on.<\/p>\n