I stopped for groceries after work.
Jeff will be late again tonight.
“Don’t wait up,” he always says.
I hate these country roads at night –
twisting, full of ruts. I woke
this morning choking back a scream,
but the dream escaped
with the trembling.
I round a bend, see movement
in the willows. Slow, I tell myself.
It’s probably nothing.
– Sarah Russell
First published in Black Poppy Review
For Real Toads prompt “chaos theory“
Also for Poetry Pantry
Photo: Shutterstock
Sarah Russell Poetry 
The portentous dream, the darkness, the movement in the willows….the uneasiness is palpable. Wonderfully done Sarah!
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Thanks a lot, Sherry. Bjorn’s prompt was a tough one. Not sure this fits, but it’s as chaos-ish as I could come up with.
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Love how your poems pack so much into a few lines..this one I read several times!!!
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Thanks so much, Rajani. I usually end up with only about a quarter of what I originally write. I just keep whittling and whittling. Sometimes I lose stuff though that I should keep and can’t think how it went in the poem. I save the first draft but not the subsequent ones. I should train myself to save all the drafts, but I’m too impatient.
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I don’t keep anything.. just the final version that is posted or in recent weeks, sent to some journal or the other, often forgotten! 🙂
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Wow! Writing without a net. You’re living dangerously. The last time I did that and immediately started paring down (always a mistake to do it right after the first draft) I ended up with about 6 words and had no idea how I got there. Absolute jibberish! sigh. It really seems to work for you though!
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I’ve been on that road and seen those willows move. Your writing is vivid and realistic. You can keep the herd of elk or deer getting ready to emerge, though.
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Thanks, Kris. I know about the deer and elk. I peer into the darkness so intently that I have a stiff neck and a headache when I get home.
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Not really liking, but totally understanding!
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I love the augury and the sense that something might happen, the disaster of the road is always too close for comfort.
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Thanks, Bjorn. Not sure if I even came close to chaos theory, but I tried…
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I felt the suspense and the anxiety, and only in so very few words.
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Thank you, Ivor.
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I love the way you have captured several moments in time in one small poem that is pregnant with meaning, Sarah. I empathise with you about the country roads at night and waking up with a choked back scream – and escaping dreams.Willows!
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Thanks, Kim. Wish those dreams wouldn’t swirl away. And the more I reach, the more they tease me. And haunt sometimes.
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A perfectly carved jack-o-lantern for the time, spare and keen with eyes glaring back.
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Ooooo Brendan, you’re on a ghostly roll this week. Hope you’re going to submit Quantam Field Theory for publication. I know a couple of places that love that kind of work. Let me know if you want names. You may have a venue in mind already for it.
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Thanks Sarah, bad habit, haven’t tried to get anything published for 20 years. I get all I need from my little circle of peers. I’m trying to put a manuscript together combining two veins of work this year.
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you have evoked the underlying fears so well
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Thanks, Beth.
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I have read your words several times too Sarah and wonderful they are.
The dream escaping at the trembling – brilliantly described.
Anna :o]
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Thank you so much, Anna.
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Subtle but potent. The cliff edge of ‘it’s probably nothing’ leaves me thinking quite the opposite. Do not look back.
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Thanks, Paul. Yup. Those little nagging things that happen just before a major realization. Love your term “cliff edge.” That’s what I was going for.
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Some dreams do resound in our waking moments, glimpses of future or past catastrophe.
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Thanks, Kerry. I think her fear may be of the future.
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This is delightfully creepy!
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Thanks a lot, Kelli.
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It gripped me. I hope it wasn’t Jeff in a ditch. Poor woman.
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Thanks, Alison. No, I think Jeff may have been, uh, elsewhere.
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It’s good that you vented your experience into writing. It births amazing writes like this one. Great write!
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Thanks, Jamztoma. And it could just be a story. You never know with poets… 🙂
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Wow! That was good.\
ZQ
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Thanks a lot, ZQ!
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that damn Jeff. but he juxtaposes up against that choking scream
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Yup. You got the metaphor. Thanks, Angie!
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Hard one for me having been hit by a car 9 years ago, Still living the nightmare! That said it is a powerful and effective poem.
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Ow! Sorry for the bad memories, John. And thanks for your compliment.
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Impactful and haunting … wonderfully constructed … fantastic title.
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Thanks, Wendy. Augury is such a medieval, occult word. I love it too.
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Once upon a time I drove fearlessly at night. No more. Caution comes with the wisdom of the years. We live a stone’s throw from a huge park populated with many deer who venture out from time to time, often with unfortunate result. Your poem eloquently describes the tension of night-driving near willows!
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We lived in the Colorado mountains for several years. Always white-knuckle driving at night. One night there was a moose in the driveway munching on the willows. They’re really, really big!
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Love the eeriness. I actually looked over my shoulder…
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Hey, that’s high praise, Magaly. Thanks!
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The shadows on the dark, dark country roads can certainly spook me in real life let alone dreams…loved the imagery!
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Thanks so much, Donna.
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Ooh, effective how it stops at ominous and leaves us anticipating.
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Thanks, Rosemary. Joan Didion says (paraphrasing here) that the last line of a book should open the door to a new story. I try to remember that when I write a poem.
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I like the way you begin your poem with action. Drew me right in….
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Thanks, Annell. Kind of mundane action — stopping to get groceries — but relatable for all of us, I guess. That gives me an idea. What if she’d stopped at a bar instead?! Whole different poem. 🙂
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How many times has “probably nothing” turned out to be something, something dreadful and dangerous?
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Indeed. If your intuition is on high alert, it’s time to pay attention. Thanks for stopping by!
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Probably…one of those wishful words.
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Yes. When I say probably, I know I’m going against my intuition. Always suspect!
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