True Progression
How many women vehicle designers have ever existed?
In twisted turns and rambunctious ways, she
Wrecked herself to make her lines cleaner than
The men of old that said they would be
Nothing by comparison to the man.
Where recreation centers grew like buds
She trusted the liars to carry out
Her every plot. Shy dried off from the suds
And carried on with the vehicle bouts.
Her name emblazoned in the paint would make
The obvious eye roll and heads swivel
From no school before had she time to take
Her goal was to fight time and the Devil.
Her creation brought to the profession
A sense of women in true progression.
About the Creator
Skyler Saunders
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
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