Stuck in traffic still
angry about our fight
wondering why
I’m rushing home
to more discord
more resentment
but I can’t remember
what or which
one of us started it
something about
dirty dishes left
too long in the sink
whose turn it was
to clean the bathroom
the irksome detritus
of marital life
and then
I see the flashing reds
streak the dusk ahead
hear the sirens wail
and all I can think about
is you and what
time did you leave work
and what color
is the car in the ditch
and how I can’t get home
fast enough to know
you are there find you
napping on the couch
you’d be proud of me
I’m not tailgating even
in my panic as I imagine
you cold your body mangled
there’s a crowd around
the crash I think I see
the jaws of life but I can’t
be sure in this dim light
plus I am distracted
trying to remember
the last time I held
your hand or kissed
your lips— I make a deal
with God if the car’s not
a silver Subaru
I’ll be a better wife
let go of pettiness
appreciate you more
the list is long but
I really mean it this time
did I tell you I love you
this morning— no it’s
a red Ford Explorer
finally we are moving
and now I wonder
if you picked up dinner
or do I have
to do that too
Ann Weil is the author of Lifecycle of a Beautiful Woman (Yellow Arrow Publishing, 2023) and Blue Dog Road Trip (Gnashing Teeth Publishing, October 2024). Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in Best New Poets 2024, Pedestal Magazine, RHINO, Chestnut Review, DMQ Review, Maudlin House, 3Elements Review, and elsewhere. A four-time Pushcart nominee, Weil lives with her husband and soul-dog in Ann Arbor, MI, and Key West, FL.