The Accident

 The Accident

 

They replaced the sign today at the intersection.

The fire hydrant will take longer,

though not as long as it will take

to change her customary routes—

to the grocery store, the cleaners,

the doctor, the dentist,

to everywhere she goes—

in order to avoid that place.

Her car inevitably backs out of the driveway,

inevitably turns to the left,

to the inevitable turn at the corner

where she can go no longer,

where she would see the place where

the axis of her world changed.

 

She would see it happen again,

again the late-to-work speed of the oncoming car,

the desperate swerve, 

(her little boy)

the toppled car, the scream,

and the horribly silent moment

before the sirens.

 

In the morning, she walks the block

And touches the cold metal signpost

Instead of his warm cheek.