Ten Cars Veered Off the Freeway and Up My Leg

It’s no way to live, a four-car
pileup at the base of my spine,
overheated radiators steaming at my toes,
a carbon monoxide haze all around,
no time to sleep or love.
I want to slow this hectic pace,
revolve like a planet,
steadily, through the black
space of the rooms. But still they drive drunk,
bend fenders, spin out on my thighs.
If I could shower this minute,
make my skin slick like the roads after rain,
one by one they’d skid, slide
off my body, scraps of colored metal
collecting with the hair in the drain.
Jessica Goodheart
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