[“Sometimes we wonder what unfailing means…”]
Sometimes we wonder what unfailing means
when nothing’s warrantied to last. Our car
breaks down among the clay-red hills, ravines
unmarked. Nowhere, New Mexico. We’re far
from cities that we know. It takes three days
to tow our brokenness across the state,
driving half-speed and braking for delays,
the detours up ahead. I navigate.
You drive. I tell you, I want clean and bright,
to trade in clattering and rubberneck
for speed or just fidelity. The light
is leaking from the sky, our trip a wreck.
You say, repairing engines is an art—
all of these small devices split apart.
when nothing’s warrantied to last. Our car
breaks down among the clay-red hills, ravines
unmarked. Nowhere, New Mexico. We’re far
from cities that we know. It takes three days
to tow our brokenness across the state,
driving half-speed and braking for delays,
the detours up ahead. I navigate.
You drive. I tell you, I want clean and bright,
to trade in clattering and rubberneck
for speed or just fidelity. The light
is leaking from the sky, our trip a wreck.
You say, repairing engines is an art—
all of these small devices split apart.
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Disclaimer
We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2020 by Jehanne Dubrow, [“Sometimes we wonder what unfailing means…”] from Simple Machine: Sonnets, (University of Evansville Press, 2020.) Poem reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.