Stones

So goddammed much stuff broken
here the truck’s axle all the messing
around with the motor just to lie on the rough
of the idle just to imagine

what was broken in the past or maybe
the past was whole but each second
of its immense feet marching across
the old farmhouse floor wore

down the foundation so life now
is iffy enough and the future
is bound to fall in on all
who survive to see it

I won’t survive the fall

I mean this fall I mean not some time
later when the last bits of these floors are
splinters in the last toes of the last children here
I mean lying here I’ve pulled the choke

back out and the rust of the truck floor rattles
with the motor’s idle roar, clacks the knobs
of the window handles shakes this seat
shakes my bones I’d rather

stay here and open the throttle wide
and let the engine shake my bones apart
rattle loose the hard dark stones my bones
shown in black and white are harboring

I mean I was made to the rhythm
of this truck’s shimmy-shake and if
I want to be unmade here as well
that’s my own goddamed decision