Human Wheels
A poem by Cherie Rankin

Human Wheels

Cold Fall mornings and evenings,
rain against the windshield,
my expanding belly against the wheel
as you kicked madly
to the drum beat
of John Mellencamp’s
“Human Wheels…”

“Human wheels,
spin round and round,
while the clock keeps the pace.
Human wheels
spin round and round
help the light find my face.”
I knew it from the first notes

and you did, too.
Every time it came on–
and it came on a lot
that Fall–
your little heel
thumped under my ribs,
sharp against the bone.

It pushed hard,
stayed outlined against the skin.
I could trace it
with my finger,
a tiny triangle
of defiance and strength
so forceful that tiny foot came out crooked.

I always misheard the lyrics, back then:
“This pale reflection of
its brave and blonder day.”
The line is “This pale reflection
of its brave and blundering deed.”
I’ll remember it my way,
my own brave and blonder day–

just the two of us on the road
on gray mornings
and darkening afternoons
until you were here.
The first time that song played
you kicked your feet
frantically to the beat.

About the Author:

Cherie Rankin is a Professor of English at Heartland Community College, where she has taught for 17 years. Her work has previously been published in Dragon Poet Review and Labor: Studies in Working-Class History.

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