Unedited Poem #9: Post-you-mous

on

The car before me stops

too quick and quiet for my soul’s

rusting windows. 
I have exactly one thought in 

half a moment’s lap: 

I am not fast enough. 
Foot puts the pedal into a 

death grip, like a gavel

to unyielding 

wood. 
The seat embraces me,

engulfs my whole

and swallows me 

in such a way

as I never would’ve known

before

if it hadn’t been 

for you. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.