Nicole Chvatal — “Dirge”


Dirge

My low tire pressure light has not yet
shown itself, little orange harp keeping
quiet. The farther I drive, the higher
the risk of my dash illuminating
her song. Summer now miles in the rearview.
Beth gone 16 weeks and one day. My new
thing crying out her name on the highway.
It’s the motion, I guess. Going somewhere
but nowhere special. Summer tires stacked
in the garden shed, their sensors connect
to a signal catch within the engine,
a closed heart valve that only opens when
you’re far enough away to trip the switch.
Invisible. How I will remember.

 

 

Nicole Chvatal writes property deeds and other witty things in Bath, Maine. Her work has appeared in Popshot Quarterly, SWWIM Daily, Quarter After Eight, Panoplyzine, LEON Literary Review, The Portland Press Herald and on Maine Public Radio. She is a graduate of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College.