Suddently the curve,
the headlights flooding into his eyes,
and his hands jerking the wheel
as he turned their lives
into the corner of the bus stop.

The truck rattled past, the chain
on its long trailer dragging back the night.

He sat there, shaking, his bones
feeling like the crumpled metal
of the bumper. His lip was torn,
and his chest burned where the buckle
of the belt had choked his soul
back into living.

lay still,
face peaceful
on the vinyl
of the dashboard.
In her hair
splinters of
shone like
water drops
in a fountain
in sunlight.

was alive. Alive.
That was what they had to
tell him, over and over,
when they came to pull him
away from her. He
was alive.


  1. You pay so much attention to detail that your poems come across as being real, real life. Tragic but beautifully written. Well done. Have a great day.

  2. sad to read, I can see this moment in my head and the emotions that fell...

  3. Anonymous11:36:00 AM

    "alive" "inside" "twos"... so very wise. there is always a third essence in a two. Each piece is intricate: a togetherness connected in a seperateness between what is said not said what is needed not needed what happens within breathing lives that story.

  4. I'm generally not a big fan of gerunds, but they work beautifully here. Another fab poem!


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