By Mazaré
Three. Two. One.
I am the Burst of breath
they didn’t see.
Streetlights too distant.
Moon gleam too slivered.
U-Haul in front too tall.
My stride no match
for flared noses and fidgety palms.
The SUV swerved
around the waiting one,
gunning it
for the white piano keys on the street
that feet glide.
Before my eye
could shimmer with blue,
my body
was spinning,
reeling,
and landing
just an inch
from the
bison on wheels.
What is “yield” to the
hurried beast
who blinks?
Three. Two. One.
I am the Burst of breath
they didn’t see.
Here at the junction,
the joining
of motors, bikers, and strollers.
All yearning
to feel that four letter word
Ess-Ayy-Eff-Eee.
That
I see you, and you see me.
While passing,
eyes holding each other
like mother and newborn child.
That
in a honey’s arms
I won’t let a drop of pollen
harm you
as we ride.
That
we’re each other’s keeper
so we’ll keep us from colliding.
Whether you’re headed
to get your hair braided
or to visit the sacred,
Whether I’m craving
karibbean, khao, or casita,
Or GALita’s playing something good
para tu familia,
Let us make sure
we can get there.
Like the three red stars
above the two red bars
on the flag,
we will guard you.
Uniting Washington
Like the Nats, Wizards, & Caps.
Closer than the orange, silver, and blue tracks.
Motors, bikers, and strollers
we are the trinity.
Helping the distracted focus
and the reckless wreck less.
We will stay three seconds behind
because 3,000 pounds
is a crush, not a kiss
and all it takes is two seconds
of averting our gaze
for one Burst
to become pavement.
Bump a citation from five.
Your gold life is the drive.
Image design by Rosy Sunshine Galvin @rosy.sunshine
Resilient Voices 