Listen to Elizabeth Arnold reading this poem.
When the wheels lost traction for a moment and the car slid swinging sideways on the road, my heart
loosened inside its housing, started … then snapped back
—even within the buoyancy our bodies
made of air—into the strategized civility
I’d engineered, the wet snow falling
and the sky above that (what we couldn’t see but rode through really)
blank unpilotable.
