Flint Michigan

by Stevie Jean Reed
Blueline
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.