She borrowed the tiger’s eye necklace,
glinting
golden-amber-brown,
for a wedding.

A wedding
they never made it to.
The tire blew out on the way,
and no-one knew how to fix it so
they stayed in the car.

Heat made the air
ripple and roil;
a still pond disturbed
by the sun’s burning fingers.

Rolling down windows,
opening doors;
none of it helped.
The sun baked the moisture from the air like
bread in an oven,
****** the sweat from their bodies like
juice from an orange,
leaving behind the shriveled skins
to petrify in its heat.

Modern-day mummies;
wedding finery for linen wrappings,
their car a crowded sarcophagus.

The amulet on her neck,
the borrowed tiger’s eye
blinking fiercely
golden-amber-brown
under the brighter, fiercer eye
of the sun.