Down Emma's Arm

At the corner of War Highway and the state road,
a white wooden cross shares space
with a pair of creosoted utility poles.
The cross is embellished with fabric hibiscus,
a flower more at home tucked behind
the ears of flirtatious dusky-haired girls
than on the high plains.
Spirals of thin wire hold the flowers – tiny rust spots
marking where predecessors were bound.
A not-yet-faded price tag reveals the blossoms
cost $2.99 per bundle. Self-adhesive,
scarcely-reflective mailbox letters name the cross.

At night, the bright wood reflects traffic signals' glow,
advancing ever on through their amber-red-green-amber
progression. Down Emma’s right arm,
a telephone pole across the road mirrors her cruciformed shape.

State Highway 114
Lubbock, Texas