After My Car Is Totaled In A Rockslide

 

My throat sleeps like an avalanche

With modems & social workers

Vaccinating the homeless in tunnels

Filled with drums & fire escapes.

 

In my knees mechanics inspect flowers &

Gas tanks on lifts made of violins.

Behind the lacquered red toolboxes of my legs

An unshaven astronomer chases one-eyed pigeons

Through alleys of glamorous & sullen tires.

 

Windshields shatter in my gloves.

My ankles are manuscripts made of radiators

& the casings of split-open transmissions

Bent like half-folded wheelchairs creaking

With all the demons of my wrongdoings

Rising through the floorboards.

 

My teeth are tiles from the roofs of

Suicide bombers exploding straight up

& the rocks that fall upon the highway

Crush the cellular telephones of my wrists.

 

 

Vail Pass

11 March 1996

 

 

[Published in The Dance Of Yellow Lightning Over The Ridge:

Poems 1993-1997. 1998 by Jim Cohn.]

 

 

APPEARS IN

The Dance Of Yellow Lightning Over The Ridge: Poems 1993-1997
(Writers & Books Publications, 1998)

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