The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Rebecca York

Morning Report

There’s a broken-down car needing a tow,

Far left lane of the beltway.

And the Saudi

Government has dealt women another blow.

The law that restricts driving is cloudy . . . .

Each voice twists itself into the shell of

My ear, gaining traction in a short pause,

In words too shy to fall without a shove,

Information turned chaos for the cause.

Underneath, the quiet wails of the clutch

Set a syncopated beat that propels

Us down that switchback wannabe with such

Purpose. Each voice, still oblivious, swells.

But Chaos is music in conversational jazz,