Tempo

The car was an amnion
of birth, encompassing
and red as a womb.
Stepping inside
was like getting back
into the sack,
with its life force
coursing through
my veins in a corporeal
connection.
Everything was red,
almost maroon with
seats that cradled
the body and were
warm in every season.
Opening the door
was to be born
feet first, in a slow
slide away from
conception.

Mary Beth Kosich