You slipped five fingers through my clenched fist
and squeezed. I kept three of our four hands safely in my lap;
your left steered the car through midnight air.
The jarring shocks, surges of wind, Ani’s song –
each moaned a death rattle down the road to where we were going.
Some girls bond over shared lives; we bonded over holding on.
Do you remember how I blew my Camel smoke from
your window? Little cloudy prayers. Three times
I pleaded with the Lord to take the rules away, to
gut the pit between us, that I would find myself
tucked inside the warm crescent of your neck.
Did they teach you to pray that way when you wore
a Catholic school skirt? Did they whip your palms?
Did they hold the closet door of you closed, too,
with their bibles and their billy clubs?
The Camry turned a last corner, a last chance to
trace the lines where guitar strings slide on you.
Ani leaned with us –
Let’s grow old and die together, she sang.
Let’s do it now.
and squeezed. I kept three of our four hands safely in my lap;
your left steered the car through midnight air.
The jarring shocks, surges of wind, Ani’s song –
each moaned a death rattle down the road to where we were going.
Some girls bond over shared lives; we bonded over holding on.
Do you remember how I blew my Camel smoke from
your window? Little cloudy prayers. Three times
I pleaded with the Lord to take the rules away, to
gut the pit between us, that I would find myself
tucked inside the warm crescent of your neck.
Did they teach you to pray that way when you wore
a Catholic school skirt? Did they whip your palms?
Did they hold the closet door of you closed, too,
with their bibles and their billy clubs?
The Camry turned a last corner, a last chance to
trace the lines where guitar strings slide on you.
Ani leaned with us –
Let’s grow old and die together, she sang.
Let’s do it now.
Note: This poem borrows lyrics from “The Waiting Song,” a song written by Ani DiFranco.
Cyndie Randall’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Frontier Poetry, Crab Creek Review, Longleaf Review, The Pinch Journal, MORIA, and elsewhere. She works as a therapist and lives among the Great Lakes. Connect with her on Twitter @CyndieRandall or at cyndierandall.com.