“Death Rattle”

It’s your car, and it’s dark out, more shadow than world,
more ghost than girl, my hands going inwards
every time you try and hold them.
The car rattles. Rocks. Lurches like we have been
swept out to sea, and the water is climbing
up the windowpane. Rain from below. Lightning cuts
through ink, so I can see your face,
just as we submerge.

—

Written for the prompt of a dream poem where they don’t know it’s a dream. I’ll make it longer some day.

xx,
Meg