Airbag

the airbag blooms
a gunshot flower just in time
my pollen soaked face
now the bees
snarl at the glass
trying the handles
I don’t have my eyes
yet forming a picture
of just how I got here
yell mama
yelled mama
the flame's getting closer
you have to let go
the lifts are all broken
you just have to leap this
is your mama speaking
just go
just go
I'll be here

This poem appears in


Don't Fall in Love with People from Generation X

© Brendan Bonsack
September 2018