each spiderweb from the air.
Over there
they said, pointing to a ditch.
Where a car had been rolled
onto its back. Like a beetle–
without limbs to shake in the air–
settled; extremely still, on the freeze.
Each step closer crunched,
under weight. Weight of me,
weight of boots, of body,
of consequence. Weight
of metal chains;
I sunk in, to my shins.
Too heavy for the surface.
Towing, against the slip
of snow. Clipped:
bumper to bumper.
Then the pulling. Like
a dentist, tautening.
No room for thought
about the cross: beaded
and wrapped upside down, still
swaying from the cracked rearview.
Waving faster, frenzied. Hurried and wild
as the roof slid forward against the ground.
as the roof slid forward against the ground.
Upward, up over the shining ditch,
and out. Onto the road again.