That time, playing in the muck,
foot emerging without a boot,
hopping and laughing
all the way home…
Then, later, on the bus
the impact of the car
the windshield cracking
like a giant spider
blood all over
the dead lady’s face
All in the past –
sunroof open
kids riding along,
music blaring
But trauma is a spider
Arachne reaching into happy places
and as much as I speed up
to avoid her,
fight to disable
her attack;
she weaves herself new limbs,
begins the onslaught anew
And I am stuck in the mud again
no longer limber enough
to dance my way home in the rain.
(The Car Crash first appeared here in March of 2020. Edited for this version. Image my own.)