Lipstick Car Wreck

Finally alone, you open your coat in the snow
Revealing the soft hum of pilot light

Living, walking to the water’s edge

To pray for river’s cleanse
the water is polluted with reflection

So run, you always do, into an idle
car on the street outside

Of where you need to be, you’ve circled around
3 times already (you’re not getting any more inside)
drive, flood down the avenue to the last bridge

Left erect from burned out comings-alive
switch, from automatic to manual

Stop self-correcting let it careen
A smile like wreckage smears across your face

Written by Wyatt Martin

Wyatt Martin is a little-fish writer living in Northampton, MA. He writes, photographs, and plays guitar. He has poems and pictures upcoming in softcartel online magazine..

2018-01-31T01:06:56+00:00 Poetry, Wyatt Martin|

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