Cornelius Eady’s poem “Susan Smith’s Police Report”

My shape came from out-of-nowhere.
The way some things don’t belong
That’s the way

I clanged up to the car
Trapped by a badly timed light. 
Her poor kids never saw our image

Swell in the rearview mirror.
I was the danger of bulk; fast,
Nervous fingers

Barked the unlocked door open
And in I flooded, all the heartache
A lonely stretch of road can give. 

Then she was alone, blinking in
The sight of an indifferent moon
Above the pines

This, she swore, was the sound
Of my voice.