like a matchbox, just bigger
by @thepeopleandthemess
the first accident we kill a baby bird,
hardly a bump in the road
hardly anything,
a tiny body in dirty snow,
us, howling roadside prayers like coyotes to the moon
second, we bruise;
shining yellow cheeks blush under peach
and eyes bluer outside than in,
just the taste of skin, slightly sour
and one missing tooth
third, there’s a casualty
my casualty,
a long slick road and a wall
and a fatal breath, just my bones slipping
- down my throat
and blood flowing back up
laughing
a slight of hand trick
we pull away in the last moments of mysticism
broken and stunning...
...our fourth accident is a blinding light
and the fatalities were minimal
none of them ours