My black car is my safe place. Like a crystal
hung in a window makes light dance around you
though its centre’s withdrawn, hidden from view.
I’m enclosed, I can move. I’m in control.
I’m in love with this. And the memory
of the precision of your fingers on my skin,
our bodies as sync’d as driver and engine.
My black car is my place of security.
It’s easier to let your ex stay. You cleave
to her. If you had a friend this miserable
with the arguments, this inhospitable
home, you tell me you’d tell him to leave.
My heart thinks of that crystal in your window.
My friend would tell me to slide from your view.
Emma Lee’s recent poetry collection is “Ghosts in the Desert” (IDP, 2015). She co-edited “Over Land Over Sea: poems for those seeking refuge” (Five Leaves, 2015) and “Welcome to Leicester” (Dahlia Publishing, 2016) and reviews for The High Window Journal, The Journal, London Grip and Sabotage Reviews and blogs here