backing up (for my sister, Julia)

Her boyfriend was trailing
and probably figured
she got a strong lead
and was already home.

But she was strapped and
sinking in, seatbelt on.
A baby left in the bath
with the water running
while mother runs
to get the phone.
Be right back.
But the lake swallowed her slow.
The bathtub ran over.

I got home.
It was dark,
and your car was
the only one missing.
You were late.
I thought of her.

The sound of your phone
ringing somewhere else in the house
pumped bitter and warm in my mouth.
I swallowed it and saw you
strapped and misplaced.
But before long,
your lights in the driveway.
Work ran over.

As this little town takes its turn
on the creaky wheel of fortune,
I will grab onto you
until my arms ache
and my fingernails burrow
in my palms.