"On Interstate 89 North," by Kerrin McCadden (Poetry '14)

“On Interstate 89 North,” a poem by 2014 poetry graduate Kerrin McCadden, was recently featured in Four Way Review. Read an excerpt below:

On Interstate 89 North

I don’t know how close I was.
I was not paying attention to him

or his raised middle finger, which
he was tired of holding up,

his face lowered out the window at me,
glass down, even though the air

was freezing in upstate Vermont.
I have sped past, unthinking, it’s true.

I have sped past so many things.
How many miles until I know what I have done

is always the question. For a minute,
I thought I should be afraid

and watched him in my mirror in case
he sped to catch me. I have sped past and have been

unthinking so many times I want
the world to know. Once, a man leaned out

a passenger window and fired his gun at the sky
as I sped past. One time, a deer jumped

across my hood, which was accelerating,
while my son and I belted out,

Why do you build me up (build me up)
Buttercup, baby

just to let me down.
And nothing was the same afterward.

“On Interstate 89 North,” by Kerrin McCadden (Poetry ’14)