Carolan Coughlin Poetry

From time to time I'll post poems by Carolan Coughlin and some other friends. Carolan is my 22-year-old daughter, a recent graduate of Ohio University, currently tramping through New Zealand with her friend Heather Ryerson. Here's a good one:

Lost in the Martian Rivers

Climb in the car
Eyes drooping heavy with the baggage of sleep- lack.
Turn the music up.
Way up.
Shake and vibrate
Heavy bass, slide inside me, throw sleep out the window.
The falcons and buzzards will feast.
Get lost in a cloud of dust winding with the river speckled with tree shade.
Throw the map out the window.
It will float and tumble and find the sleep abandoned so many miles ago.
Examine my hands.
Trace the lines with red permanent marker
Mimicking the dried up Martian rivers.
This is the route we should have been following.
Veer off the road; follow the curves of my alien planet.
Explore my anatomical terrain.
Lean back, hand raised for reference.
Think of discarded maps and empty sleep suffering on the roadside.
My insides rattle and oscillate.
(Carolan Coughlin, 2005)