R. Wood Lynn
Psalm for the Haters in the Back
As a child, I read once about
a criminal on the run so long
she forgot her own name, forgot
even that she was on the run at all;
no one more surprised by her
capture in the end than herself.
It was the sort of thing I didn’t
believe was possible but
also the sort of thing I figured
would probably happen to me.
Maybe it already has. Here I am
not counting down the days until
the cops show up and kick these doors
down in the name of someone else’s law.
When that time comes, when the front door
swings off its hinges, I hope I know what to do
like so many sea turtle hatchlings
squirming towards an ocean,
a lost dog breaking into a run when it
hears its name for the first time in years.
Psalm for the Haters in the Back
As a child, I read once about
a criminal on the run so long
she forgot her own name, forgot
even that she was on the run at all;
no one more surprised by her
capture in the end than herself.
It was the sort of thing I didn’t
believe was possible but
also the sort of thing I figured
would probably happen to me.
Maybe it already has. Here I am
not counting down the days until
the cops show up and kick these doors
down in the name of someone else’s law.
When that time comes, when the front door
swings off its hinges, I hope I know what to do
like so many sea turtle hatchlings
squirming towards an ocean,
a lost dog breaking into a run when it
hears its name for the first time in years.
R. Wood Lynn is a poet from Fauquier County, Virginia. His poems have been featured or are forthcoming in Kestrel, Leveler, Natural Bridge, Iron Horse, Tampa Review and other publications.