here, where kudzu overtakes hollers, covers creekbanks like a thick blanket, swaddling church signs, hugging through the rust of broken-down cars and abandoned hotels. An invasive plant, from elsewhere, like us. Clinging to the sides of the road draping down power lines, determined, like us. I had a dream kudzu was swallowing me whole and I didn’t resist. Instead, releasing the tension in my shoulders, my jaw, exhaling into the place holding me, like a bird deep in its bower, tucked safe.
Jordan Laney, Ph.D., is a writer, educator, crafter, and program coordinator in Central Appalachia. You can find her work in Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel, Dinner Bell, and in various trade and academic publications. http://www.jordanlaney.com