Red

Open Jeep
That raptured us to the bottom of
Cherokee Hill

Aunt Shirley’s
face, nails, her flip flops, elastic
band that

barely tamed
her whipping hair, weeping  
bead work

my knee aflame
reopened on blacktop
only minutes

before sirens
split the sun ripe afternoon
Red

Bank
Baptist Church at the apex of a blind
curve

Beetle
helpless on its back, cans of
Bud

scattered
empties, some full ones
church key

perhaps
thrown clear with the passengers
blood

pooling
beneath the pinioned driver
everything

except the snow
white sheet I could not help
but imagine

drawn gently
over my astonished
fevered face.