I wrote this last winter. It was freezing and my car was telling me all kinds of bad things, none of which ever happened. The things that did my car had nothing to say about.
Strap in and turn the key
Check the warning lights,
Sale behind the side impact protection bars,
The crumple zone, the anti-dive seatbelt
The whiplash padding on the head-restraint,
The lights on the dashboard telling me my belt is unfastened,
But I’m reversing as it tells me too.
The mirror’s heating and the black ice warning snowflake
Not showing white on the glass somehow this cold morning
The clamour of the reversing sensor,
Another light to tell me the airbag will work
All of this telling me I won’t get hurt.
All of these coats and gloves and deadlocked doors,
The shatterproof glass, all of this protection
Around me and your empty seat
And still one word from you or
A single glance could rip my heart.