Flat Tire

 & then your
car sags
in the parking lot

flat tire

there are times
you’ve thought

God hates you

and times
you’ve thought

No God

but now
you open
the trunk

get out the jack
despite

a childhood
full of nails

falling 
out of love, badly

despite times
like this
when the
jackhandle
slipped

knuckles
tar
shitdamnfuck

but no,
bless me

you whisper
to the fields
and their 
inner softness

to the rain
holding its
wet breath

to the wild
bright fruit
of stars:

heal this tire. 
​