new year

when the covers are tucked

under the bed frame

so tight ankles stiffen

toes only point

to the end

cannot sleep like this

chunks of something

at the back of my throat

to start a new decade

friends, their bodies

weigh down the covers

on either side

of my body

hold me when it shakes

bring liquids

speak what they truly want

across my hairline

put me to sleep

when i am with child

there is only a moment

for my body

its shaking and

upheaval

no privacy with her

calling my name

beyond the door

my own hand and head

against porcelain

only for a moment

if i was a child

someone would always

touch me

when things hurt

lay hands on forehead

and chest, cheek on belly

stay with me

until deep breaths

women with cars

i could have driven her somewhere

from the corner of my block 

car stopped for a moment

red light, radio blaring the news

she pounds on my window

begging, words i barely hear

only his reassurance, to me

but i'm her husband

her husband- yes

that's what i was afraid of

Ariana told me- in the women's group

most if them have jumped

from moving cars

some on the highway

to escape men

i could have driven her somewhere

the sick dance happened so fast

two bodies circling my car

my own arms, reaching and retracting

to pull up the lock, find my cellphone

neither motions i could commit to 

Tracy's voice haunted me as a child-

won't do no good to call

the police

always come late

if they come at all

and when they arrive...

i could have driven her somewhere

to a sister or a cousin

across a state border

yes of course i will help you

yes we are both women

Audre begins Zami with dedications

i read only yesterday

one for a small white girl

screaming for help on a dark street

and when the car door opens to her

girl runs, terrified by her rescuer's color

back towards that man, white

his boots rounding the corner

she, Audre says, will die stupid

i could have driven her somewhere

but if anyone in the bus stop crowd

judged me, i do not know

they stood, silent greek chorus

as if this is what happens

every time we wait for the B11,

a red light

Zach says they could be con-artists

trying to get in my car

i did the right thing

yes, i say but i don't think so

and to him, to all the boys 

that is the end

but i am bent over

in the guise of touching my toes

to cry, unseen, steady this shaking

this churning stomach

i could have driven her somewhere

circled back around the block

picked her up out of sight

away from the man, the bus stop

but don't think of it

until i'm fifteen blocks too late

too late- it happened too fast

drive on, try to clear my vision

see the road behind my wheel

and later, i lie in bed

window open a crack

(radiator too high) and the cars

on the BQE are a part-time waterfall

my own car parked underneath

sheltered from snow and

i can drive anywhere, anytime 

my day, fades behind me

the disturbing way these things become

stories we tell later