after Dark Passage
by Kathleen Hellen
Young, sweet, healthy…you’re ducking
sirens in a cab on the lam from San Quentin.
No buying time. No angle
on the other side…something crashes.
A pressure in your chest
against the cage of your intention.
like a bullet paralyzing. Ask
Bogey. It’s all about last chances—
slim as they are, she is. Eyes tilted up.
The angel in plaid.
She’s cool as a cuke
when they warn her the killer’s loose…you,
the master of impermanence
on the lift to the fire escape.