The Black Napkin Volume 1 Issue 3 - Page 34

29

iron

by Chestina Craig

In a dream, the words:

a hot death

approached me, wanting

I don’t know what.

Maybe they

were residual

from the previous

night.

The gasoline smell

and

terror,

that I had fragmented

my tank. If I had

gone up in flames,

At least I would have gone

out like a star.

I would have been

able to blame it

on the fact

that I have iron

at my core.

That the center of me

is just

too