Flint Michigan

by Stevie Jean Reed
Honorable Mention, January 2007
Judged by Pascale Petit

Sleep inside this wheel with me.
The smell of men leaving. Tarred bulk
of cloud in a stiff sky. Factory down
and nothing left but marrow and marrow.
Stacks of tires, I’ll build you a nest,
high up and deep.
Fresh treads,
no miles between us
only rarefied childhooded brittle-lusts.
So sweet and stale our heavy breath
curled in like astronauts.
Small stowaways
not wanting to go home where there’s
nothing but explosions and hands.
Cold supper
while i hold you
and cup your crumpled chin,
drink it in.
Here today, gone tomorrow
is your face
and the name I gave you.