Traveler’s Therapy by Lennart Lundh

Traveler’s Therapy

Shadows on the road grow long,
become shadows of themselves
within the fans of headlights
when the sun is gone.

Moving west through some state,
right-angled to the new moon,
the concrete snakes through forest
like a lover heading for a mistress.

Six weeks on the road with six to go.
He’s tired of sleeping in strange towns.
He lies in bed, looking at her picture,
the one she sent two nights ago.

She is leaning against their headboard,
wearing a camisole with one strap
slipping off her shoulder. He dares
imagine boy shorts below the photo.

The paisley cloth is a Rorschach to him.
He sees her breasts, one boldly bare,
the other peeking timidly through hair,
a country river flowing down it.


Lennart Lundh is a poet, short-fictionist, historian, and photographer. His work has appeared internationally since 1965.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s