No Passing Zone
Mya G.

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Kids graze highway-side
two eagles leading
under the transparent full disc,
lull-hung over us,
yellow plantation house,
don’t forget the gangsta lean.

We brought them back
through thickets over del lago
three Grandmother volcanoes.
Where
is the foxdog?

4-panel red barn door,
crosses in each quadrant—if I revoke
I rejects.

This is the land
drifting into cherry spring;
each of us must decide.
the car rounding the road
like your tongue on a rainy afternoon
when the cat is asleep on the sill
so much easy—
open joints on bridge

you can hear our warrior cry
wind through this bayou
you can hear us all the way to the moon.