In the Peloton

by Yoni Hammer-Kossoy

Tucked around a hurricane’s eye speed is
sensed through slightest twitches that
ripple from rider to rider. Under front and
back wheels the road writes a ragged scar
through tawny fields I do not see. There is
no skin and bone, just breath and blur, we
become a vee of hawks, a place without
place, we are the windblown shimmer of an
olive grove, the ache of a new machine
wanting only to go further, faster, faster.

Originally born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, Yoni Hammer-Kossoy has been living in Israel for the last 16 years with his wife and three kids. His work has recently appeared in The Harpoon Review, The Jewish Literary Journal, Stoneboat Journal and Bones Haiku. He also writes on Twitter as @whichofawind, where he experiments recreationally (but responsibly) with various short poetic forms.