The Fieldstone Review

Faintly Falling

by Denver Jermyn

  After the diagnosis, he drives
  back to the shop, sets a 2010 Toyota
  on the hoist, arranges an oil pan,
  and spins the plug from the drain.

  Gone the children, alcohol, and cigarettes,
  he shuffles around the garage
  in the haze of grease and lubricants
  stooping his bent frame under hoods.

  He knows everything
  about any make and model,
  resets check engine lights,
  undents their bodies,

  refuses his own treatment.
  On low nights he sleeps in coveralls
  on a cot in the small office
  to be closer to her urn.

  Under the old Toyota, the oil stream
  thins to a wisp, a thread, to drops
  faintly echoing into the pan.