Windshield Wipers
by Maureen Kingston



How to know when to scrap the old
and buy new--on a schedule or as needed?
Boy Scout. Survivalist. Hoarder. Preparation’s
just a matter of degree. So why do some of us
risk the worst-case scenario of no preparation
at all? Why do we allow ourselves to be blindsided
by downpour when we know spring comes every year?

May Day.

Tendons curl and snap, whip the glass like possessed
ribbon candy. The motor’s metronome persists--
arms sweep back and forth--but devoid of purpose,
a tandem tick without rubber accompaniment.
We veer to the right, sink into the soft shoulder
of defeat--our split-lipped blades stretched too far.





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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