My first name
Ripped, screamed, slammed
Out of calm air
just before impact
Sounds like trays of silverware
being dropped on linoleum,
The crash in the restaurant kitchen
That stops the dining room
Smoke and steam erupt
From the maimed car hood,
Crescent bent steering wheel
Speedometer needle frozen at fifty-one
Squirming out of windows
Because the doors
are crushed closed
We buried our illegal treasures
Somewhere near a plowed field
Underneath the scraped bridge
No need to panic
Only until the grapey blood
Runs over my brow
The windshield was molded
With the impression
Of a bowling ball
We saw a slip of hairy scalp,
a wet potato chip crisping
in the sun
The kids at school drew
peace signs and *** leaves
On my mummy-wrap bandage
Ten years later
I look in the mirror
At a fasten seat belt sign
Of a scar
By Corey Parsons