Dreaming of Alaskan Islands 
we wound up in Dubuque
where hills of inedible corn stretch into our vast American nothing.

In sunlight and my day dress,
I am your favorite burden
buckled sweetly into the passenger seat,
Our hands sticky as you pull yours away to make a left-hand turn.

There are no canyons here.

Still,
I am probably lucky
each day we exist.

Heaven is a motel breakfast with you.

Carmen E. Brady is from the mountains of Utah and lives in the rural Midwestern US. Her poetry and illustrations have been published in print and online, including on Hobart, Shabby Doll House, Witch Craft Magazine, and more. She tweets at @therealcbrad.