“Crash” by Nicholas Godec

Crash

I had serious doubts, I’m sure of it.
Reckless, the way I threw the car into
reverse, burned down the snow-laden drive,
ignored the terror in my cousin’s cries, his pleas
to slow down. Of course I crashed,
got stuck in the bank, miraculously unharmed.

Later, I drove drunk, stoned, even huffed
what I could from gas stations in a pinch.
The snowbank meant nothing to me then.
My dad was furious, made my stomach jump,
throat go dry, his eyes searing and cutting me.
And more would come.
But that snowbank that day was calm,
beautiful, even.

How long will the snowbank send shivers
down my spine? Why, now, do I feel the slide
on ice, that moment, the terror in my cousin’s cries?

I can barely see who I was,
but I feel it behind my watery eyes,
behind my variable heart,
coursing, seeking arrival.

NICHOLAS GODEC

Nick Godec writes poetry and short fiction, with works appearing in Brief Wilderness, El Portal, Flights, Grey Sparrow, Hedge Apple, Pennsylvania Literary Journal, RiverSedge, Rue Scribe, Shark Reef, Sierra Nevada Review, Steam Ticket, Thieving Magpie and Thin Air Magazine. He has a BA in history and an MBA from Columbia University and currently works in finance in New York City. Nick enjoys spending time with his wife, Julia, and their miniature pinscher, Emma.

Headshot: Julia Buonanno

Photo Credit: Staff