A Mechanic in Julesburg Blake Lynch Poetry

local_library A Mechanic in Julesburg

by Blake Lynch

Published in Issue No. 199 ~ December, 2013

The man lies under a dead Ford

in the Colorado flats. His eyes are

caked in dirt. He smokes from

a cigarette pack rolled in his sleeves.


Emptiness scared us out onto Route 61.


The cold took us into these towns

where we hovered for warmth over tiny heaters.


He saw something come out of the corn fields,

a hundred years old. He could not name it.


He grew thin until he could no longer loosen bolts.

The illness filled him until all he could do was stare at the night.


He would be long dead come autumn.


Deep in his body grew something so

dark and unnamable that even

the darkest night could not kill it.


The highway laid out like a woman before us.

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Blake Lynch is a third year student at the University of Pittsburgh School of Law. His poems have appeared in Chelsea, King Log, Poetry Motel, 2River, Stray Branch, the Oakbend Review, Stone Highway Review, Potomac, Zygote in My Coffee, Forge, 491, and Shampoo among others. His plays have been performed at Tisch School of the Arts in New York City and The Institute of Contemporary Arts in London England.