Driving to Meet Him on a Foggy Morning

by Joan Leotta


I did not bring
my electronic
talking maps with me.
I thought I knew the way.
But while concentrating on
what will I say
when I arrive,
as I drive,
my mind wanders,
drifting in the mist
like my car.
I’m now questioning
the wisdom of
making this trip at all.
I fear I’ve missed
landmarks my friend
told me about,
markers to keep me
on the right road.
I begin to understand
that in making this drive,
I’ve become lost in the mist,
that my heart is as untrustworthy
as my sense of direction.
Yes, I am lost.


* * * * *

Joan Leotta plays with words on page and stage. Her writings have appeared or are forthcoming, in Ekphrastic Review, Spillwords, 50 Words, Brass Bell, Verse Visual, Silver Birch, anti-heroin chic, Ovunquesiamo, Writing in a Woman's Voice, and others. She's a 2021 Pushcart nominee. Her chapbook, Feathers on Stone is coming out soon from Main Street Rag. As a performer she tells of food, family, strong women, and nature.