Ashley Pace's "Along the 49th"

The roads between us rolled up in the night, snapping heartstrings at the border, like a chalk line.

Here, at the end of the world, is where you stand and wait.

Wait for judgement, for rules to apply.

Wait for news.

Wait for the fires to quell and then, maybe, the roads will grow back.

But let’s not speak of hope before the damage is done.