Kimberly L. Wright

The check engine light,
constant as the North Star
in the dashboard constellation

an ignored warning on the black and orange horizon
where glowing indicators and digital numbers
twinkle, silent and constant, from the metal, plastic, circuitry

occasional grunts and groans mixed in from the beyond
among the grumbles of the living engine, struggling
like we all do over the hill, the burden of gravity

wheels rattling over the same pitted pavement
between here and there, star stuff the dust on the hood,
a cosmos of a thousand small paint scratches

and in the cabin the odometer spirals,
getting closer to the end as the numbers grow,
bad news deferred until the go is gone.

By Kimberly L. Wright
Published in Dr. Hurley’s Snake-oil Cure, 2012