Driving the Falcon                                                                          —Matthew Murrey

In Argentina during the Dirty War
death squads drove Ford Falcons:
birds of fear and death out hunting for
government enemies—real and imagined ones
whose names the next day no one would know.
The summer I was twenty I loved to go
driving with my lover sitting next to me.
Windows down, the wind would blow
her hair in my my face as she held on to me.
Remembering my Ford Falcon I realize
that no place is inviolate
for love or hate anywhere is adequate:
the blowing hair, the warm thighs,
the gagged mouth, the hooded eyes.

Matthew Murrey

Matthew Murrey’s poems have appeared in such journals as Prairie Schooner, Poetry East, and Rattle. He received a NEA Fellowship in Poetry a number of years ago. His first book manuscript, Bulletproof, was selected by Marilyn Nelson as the winner of Jacar's 2018 Full-length Book Contest. He is a high school librarian in Urbana, Illinois, where he lives with his partner. He has two adult sons. Visit www.matthewmurrey.net.

ISSN 2472-338X
© 2018