Dropped the goddamn wrench again.
Scraped my knuckle a third time.
The grease and grime sting as the engine’s heat
lashes my cheeks. Can’t afford a mechanic, so I
become my own for a car I can barely afford
to call my own.
So tired of being broke, broke like the solenoid I
can hardly reach. Snake my arm down around wires
and hot hard hoses. Can’t really see, work mainly by feel,
and it better work. Need to get to work tomorrow
to pay for the bills I have today
for things I bought yesterday.
Work like a machine, work like a dog,
sweat like a pig, all on time
I don’t really own.
Swallowed a rose thorn
to speak like you
Swallowed that apple
to run like you
Swallowed the poison
to feel like you
Swallowed all your lines
to think like you
Swallowed all my pride
to live like you
Swallowed the bullet.
Michael Griffith began writing poetry to help his mind and spirit become healthy as his body recovered from a life-changing injury. His works have recently appeared both online and in print in The Good Men Project, Ariel Chart, Stanzic Stylings, Degenerate Literature, NY Literary Magazine, and Wild Words. He teaches and resides near Princeton, NJ.