In Red Lodge, Montana

There’s a hidden mountain road
to a geology camp that locals

know to drive on clear nights,
to the lookout point.

City lights blink like stars,
form a grid, irregular at the edges.

We stayed in a cabin
that summer—the last Dad was ok.

Sometimes I go back there,
to see the world, smaller.

Anne Mesquita (she/her) studies poetry at the Hudson Valley Writers Center. Her work has appeared in Red Eft Review, Right Hand Pointing, and The Marbled Sigh. She works at in library administration at Columbia University. She lives in Westchester, New York with her husband and daughter.