Poetry 2011 / Volume 42

Nomad — Hannah Keast

$400 bought my hard-earned silver 1984 BMW with a bullethole. Inside the worn leather paired with the exhaust fumes reeked of adventure. Airbags hadn’t yet been invented by 1984, according to my father; who laughed when I called him one winter night in a ditch by the interstate cradling a headlight. But nonetheless my silver … Continue reading