What I mean when I say Car Seat

by Sarah Thursday

I held your

five-year-old hand

across the upholstered seat

and our thumbs lock like

you mean to keep me safe

like I am the cup

on the dashboard waiting

for brake lights

to shove me forward

you are holding me

from shattering windshields

from this car-

carriage crushed steel

we’re tumbling around

and around but not

really moving, not

actually cracking glass

I got your fingers and thumb

curled into mine

but I can’t hold on after

you outgrew your car seat

you outgrew the backseat

outgrew our hand-holding

me protecting you protecting me

* * * * *

Sarah Thursday, in addition to writing poetry, co-hosted 2nd Mondays Poetry Party, ran a poetry website called CadenceCollective.net, and founded Sadie Girl Press as a way to help publish local and emerging poets and artists. She has been published in many fine journals and anthologies, interviewed by Poetry LA, and received a 2017 Best of the Net nomination for “To the Men who told me my Love was not enough.” Her newest poetry book, Conversations with Gravel, is available at SadieGirlPress.com. Find and follow her to learn more on SarahThursday.com, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.