ROAD CLOSED

By: Felix Salmoran

Over four months into

near-daily construction in our

neighborhood, they block off

both ends of our short street

on which there are only six houses.

I maneuver my car, want to shout

people live here! between the ROAD

CLOSED sign & the hefty wooden pole

holding up our electricity, our internet,

our whatever-it-is-up-there. The

timbre of the dozer razes over

the Wowee Zowee wilting

from my blown-out speakers.

Cradles of gravel dump into

ditches inches away from the

dormant violets in our front yard.

What can I tell these men,

who spend most their daylight

shoulders-deep in a crater

of carved-out asphalt,

about making light work

of paving smooth my way home?

I pull into the driveway

& the woodpecker pecking at

the maple tree slows its rhythm.

The album restarts.

Up rises a palace

of steam.

---

Felix Valentino Salmoran (he/him) is a poet, photographer, and musician of Mixtec ancestry. Everywhere he goes, Felix travels with at least one kite in the trunk of his car. When he’s not writing poems or flying kites, he’s in the garden with his husband, building a fire to gather round with friends, or beating his high scores on Clone Hero. His work appears online and in print: Poets.org, Oyster River Pages, Hayden’s Ferry Review, and elsewhere. Felix is currently pursuing his MFA in Creative Writing at Randolph College. Find him on IG: @kite.wings