Overland Pass

you tried

and I love you for it

you tried to strong arm the steering wheel

you tried as best you could

you tried to floor the brakes

to break my fall

to break through

science and physics and certainty,

the calculations running through your head at breakneck speed

//

you didn’t oversteer

you didn’t pump the brakes

you didn’t panic

you held firm

I know

you tried

and tried

I saw it too—in the moments just before

we careened

and careened

and screamed

//

last thing

wasn’t music

or I love you

or are we there yet?

last thing

wasn't my touch

or your laugh

or silence

last thing

was skidding, swerving, tumbling, bumping, gliding, shifting, twisting

metal into plastic

plastic into metal,

cracking, thwacking, smacking, snapping

you

and

I

hitting

black ice

black ice

hitting back

our car

and theirs

and theirs

and theirs

slamming, damning

the ice-coated guardrail

careening, sending

me into you into us into them into them into them

the last chance

for the last of your name

disappearing

into oncoming traffic

into winter

into fluffy white powder that

coated a

perfectly framed mountain of

hopes and dreams, promising tomorrows, giant slopes

that until this precise instant we couldn't wait to

escape to

//

all I care about is

finding my way into your vast arms

and speaking without words

one more frantic moment

being seen by your perfect eyes,

answer me

echoing

as the helicopter finds

a safe place

to land

***

Copyright © 01/10/2021 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.