American Spin

from Out With Lanterns, a daily poetry practice

We are in a spinning car,
careening in slow motion
towards a cliff and I seem
to have nothing to say 
about it except that I
noticed the ice patch
months ago, voted to 
go the other way, and 
now must contend with
the fact that centrifugal
forces are at play, and 
there’s no unspinning us. 

So may I suggest,
as gravity pulls our
heads hard back 
into the headrest,
as we inch ever so 
close to the edge, 
to find a hand and 
hold it, to imagine 
a good outcome,
a just outcome, 
not sheer destruction
as we spin out of control.

Photo by Martin Baron on Unsplash