Two Poems
Michelle Sinsky

Manifest Destination

The wreck left you with your face mangled in a smile. They said to keep the glass in your artery
so I could see myself in your arm like a side mirror.

If there was no accounting for physics, I would have posted notes on the train window to warn
passengers do not scream your heads off.

The damp and the smell of sheet metal in the morning. The roar of saws and locked jaws of life.
You move with the apprehension of something in a shell.

32 Stitches

My brother already has the staple gun when I realize there are variations to hide-and-go-seek.