The vase breaks against the floor, the bone against the dashboard, the sky through the trees, the letters d-e-a-d past my teeth, the tire past the road's yellow line, the metal around him, the pressure his neck and back, the storm, the trees, he breaks there in the driver’s seat, and I break into a new world, the grass under the metal, the frame, our photo in it, the creek, the silence through the wind around the wall to see his casket, let the nightmare’s veil reveal it’s real, the blood, the white contrast of the airbag, each day a new record of how long I can live without him
Angelic (Angie) Armendariz currently works as an Editor and Comic Book Manager while pursuing her MFA at UNO. She has 3 doggie furkids that are spoiled rotten.