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.



Whoa! Scary.
Great metaphor!