smelter last winter dad told me a man at his work was burned alive in a vat of molten lead. he works in a battery factory. today i am looking at a busy street & wondering how many of my father are curled inside bellies of passing vehicles. then, if maybe, there are still cars moving with a flicker of that man eaten by flames. i look up pictures of car battery anatomies. staring into the folds of mechanical hearts. i am tracing assembly lines in my blood. knuckles & respirators. i want softness for our bodies. a graveyard where cars can go to become mammals. where fathers sleep & wake up with pockets full of gold.