The road flares burning where the truck swerved off
Just before midnight show the streaks in gravel
And banged-up tailgate slanted in its trough.
Those passing—weary, wondering—slow their travel
On sight of massed police and long enough
To see provisioned brilliance unravel
In such vast darkness as to mask the face
Of one who sobs in some unwonted place.
—James Matthew Wilson
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Does Just War Doctrine Require Moral Certainty?
Pope Leo XIV has made it clear that the U.S. war on Iran does not, in his…
The Church of David Bowie
David Bowie and the Search for Life, Death and Godby peter ormerodbloomsbury, 256 pages, $28 Thirty-four years…
Finding a Pulse
Trueman’s new book, The Desecration of Man, should further cement his authority. It supplements, focuses, and in…
