I drove for days through the desert
Medicine or memory
Talking to me.
Thin on illness and my life
And what the trucker and those
Other men did.
Not human what I am now: the blonde
Mute. And I’ll never
Get out of this.
From the collection, The Glimmering Room. Reprinted with permission from the author.
Cynthia Cruz was born in Germany and raised in Northern California. Her poems have appeared in Paris Review, Boston Review, GRAND STREET, AGNI, and are anthologized in Isn’t it Romantic: 100 Love Poems by Younger Poets and The Iowa Anthology of New American Poetries. She is the recipient of several residencies to Yaddo and the MacDowell Colony. Her upcoming collection, Glimmering Rooms is forthcoming from Four Way Books, 2012. Her previous collection is titled, Ruin (Alice James Books, 2006). She lives in New York City.