The Green Tunnel

That crunch and

like a head being laid
on a concrete pillow
at a million miles an hour.

Still so vivid,
those eyes,
appearing at my right headlamp,
large and dolorous
and on fire.

My licence plate was
kicked clear
across the road,
which was strewn fast with shreds
of my bumper, the crumpled
impact zone.
Blood turns thick and sticky
quick on a night like this.

It smears dishevelled
as Persephone’s kisses.
Her rich dark mealy lipstain.

And I drove on into the night
a little colder for our encounter.


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