Highways and Byways: The End of the Biscayne

By Maik Strosahl

Another one of my photography friends, Sandra Nantais, recently posted some new photographs that got my brain whirling. Sandra’s photos have inspired several of her poet friends to ekphrastic pieces and we have collaborated on pieces many times. I used one of her photos before in this column (“Fiji Musume: The Wisteria Maiden,” the tribute to Carolyn Files, August 11, 2021).

    Normally when Sandra posts pictures, I ask her for some specific details that can add depth to a piece. This time, though, my mind already was spinning a story—complete fiction that just seemed to grow from the image.
    I hope you enjoy her photo and the poem that grew from it.

The End of the Biscayne

Dad said
the Biscayne died
in the Bayou,
the summer of ‘64,
Reggie sticking his head
out the front window,
whining about the heat
in the still air
of a half-shoulder,
hazards declaring
our helpless state
through sunset
and into the dark.

Mom
couldn’t get comfortable
across the back bench,
eight and a half months
into my bake,
tossing with every
infantile elbow or
full leg extension
stretching against
her belly wall.

Dad finally returned
with the first headlights in hours
and a yellow strobe,
hooking the Chevy,
pulling us to the shop
where they administered
last rites,
parking the heap
in the back lot
just as Mom screamed
about her water,

and I was born in the wrecker
on the way to Baton Rouge,
crying out my first breath
over the electronic whir
of a revolving bulb
and its amber glow.

Copyright © 2022 by Maik Strosahl Michael E. Strosahl has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there.