“Untitled”

by Dominie Johnson

A grape car roar

Wallowing round the curve

Saddling the rim

Motions with openings in the dark

Aims fresh

Slowing to the lane

Stopping in a scatter of moldy brown leaves

Hot still air

Moss dangles

Scum floating through the driver’s window

The river tainted water rubs the muzzle

The setting sun hangs through the light

From gaps squeezed features of the grape car.