Malice (This Is Just to Say)
Tammy Walker

I have driven your
’89 Trans Am
Into an old
Rock quarry . . .

I have smashed
The bumper,
Eaten away
With rust.

I have created
A sprinkler
From your
Swiss cheese radiator.

I have crushed
The hood
Racing striped
And peeling.

I have mutilated
The intake
Once raised
Above the hood.

I have twisted
The frame
Into a
Twizzler.

I have popped
Off the tire
That now sits
In the backseat.

I have shattered
The mirror
Once attached
To the door.

I have cracked
The windshield-
From Driver’s side
To Passenger’s.

I have dismembered
The T-Top,
Which resulted
In a convertible.

I have jammed
The steering wheel
So that it no longer
Turns left . . . or right.

I have shredded
The timing belt
You replaced
Two months ago.

I have bent
The second-hand
Flowmasters
You had installed.

I have pissed
On your carpet
And your slashed
Vinyl seats.

And I have unhinged
The door
Because I leapt
Before it crashed.

Forgive me,
You were probably
Expecting
Much less.