between two deaths, an accident
mary newell
Jolt—
Slid into on slick uphill turn.
Icy rain clots my hair
while I confer with the other driver.
No respite there:
man without insurance
mumbling through sardonic lips,
his car cratered from old collisions.
Trivial bumper compression
exaggerated affect spike
jagged amygdala plunge
fish hook twist expunging
tough memories stranded tight—
striated inflame, neural unravel…
Stopped cold.
Ahead, around the bend,
guarding the forked ramp to the G W bridge,
a cop scrutinizes traffic in the drizzle.
I could tell him my story of
misconstrued commute—
I could enumerate minutiae—
but I’d rather tell a mother
who’d pat my back in sync
to muffled sobs, displaced
from another saga
still too raw to mourn.