Andy Roberts
Crucifix
The tow truck carries a
crucifix on its back
through crosstown traffic,
east to west, north to south,
over interstate, railroad tracks,
parked at rest.
Flat face mocked with grease,
arms spread in frost, rain, drought.
Body one with bloodslick, winereek.
Pulleys scream, cables screech to
failure to yield, reckless operation, overdose.
Mourners at scene pick through shattered glass
for mementos of concentration lapse,
phone glance, text tap.
Leave the air freshener, take the wallet.
Never in a lifetime learn to
unsee body on a gurney,
penny on the tongue
for blood.