CarrollBlog 7.6

We are wrapped around each other

in the back of my father's car parked

in the empty lot of the high school

of our failures, sweat on her neck

like oil. The next morning I would leave

for the war and I thought I had something

coming for that, I thought to myself

that I would not die never having

been inside her body. I lifted

her skirt above her waist like an umbrella

blown inside out by the storm. I pulled

her cotton panties up as high

as she could stand. I was on fire. Heaven

was in sight. We were drowning

on our tongues and I tried

to tear my pants off when she stopped

so suddenly we were surrounded

only by my shuddering

and by the school bells

grinding in the empty halls.

She reached to find something,

a silver crucifix on a silver chain,

the tiny savior's head

hanging, and stakes through his hands and his feet.

She put it around my neck and held me

so long my heart's black wings were calmed.

We are not always right

about what we think will save us.

I thought that dragging the angel down that night

would save me, but I carried the crucifix in my pocket

and rubbed it on my face and lips

nights the rockets roared in.

People die sometimes so near you,

you feel them struggling to cross over,

the deep untangling, of one body from another.