Doris Ferleger

Forbidden Drive
by Doris Ferleger

Come, you whisper. I run
down the triple switchback,

don’t stop to lift my fallen
fleece glove. I find you

in seizure, shivering, slumped
silent on a rock or massive tree roots.

(Years later, I will seek the spot.)
Snow covers you

in your too-thin jacket.
(How did I let you wear only that?)

911 sends a fire truck
instead of an ambulance.

Let’s go home. Let’s go home, you whisper.
I hate not knowing what’s best.

A hiker retrieves the fallen
glove and our car, forges

up Forbidden Drive,
her two goldens panting,

smiling, circling, leaving
paw prints all over

cognac-colored seats—lives—
changing hourly—

in heavy snow.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 22, Issue 4.

Doris FerlegerDoris Ferleger is a winner of the New Letters Poetry Songs of Eretz Prize, Montgomery County Poet Laureate Prize, Robert Fraser Poetry Prize, and the AROHO Creative Non-Fiction Prize, among others. She is the author of three full volumes of poetry: Big Silences in a Year of Rain (finalist for the Alice James Books/Beatrice Hawley Award), As the Moon Has Breath, and Leavened, as well as a chapbook entitled When You Become Snow. She holds an MFA in Poetry and a PhD in Psychology and maintains a mindfulness-based therapy practice in Wyncote, PA.

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