After

My hands wouldn't stop.

Got to the parking lot and reached for the steering wheel

and my fingers were already trembling,

already knowing something I hadn't caught up to yet.

Gripped harder. Pressed down.

The shaking got worse.

It's like my hands remembered

before my brain did—

like they were trying to hold onto something

that was already gone.

I sat there with my palms on the wheel

and let them shake.

Let them tell the truth

my mouth wasn't ready to say yet.