A sonnet for the survivors No one asks the babysitter for permission. The maiden and Poseidon in a Chevy Impala. The endless dark road along the St. Mary’s River,  lit by a muted moon. The conversation.  “Do you date? Do you kiss boys?”  Questions slither where he doesn’t belong.  Would Poseidon violate me? Dump me  … Continuar leyendo Trapped by Poseidon in a Chevy Impala by Barbara Leonhard