I know I drive too fast down country roads,
gobbling up the miles laying in between,
hurtling towards our hot hypnotic scene,
obliterating rabbits, squashing toads.
This drive to still my lust lets me careen
between the hedges and wide lorry loads;
brain scans green traffic signals like barcodes,
impatient for the moment we convene.
This rain lashed engine battery corrodes
and drowns in domesticity routine,
foot to the board, feel pistons trampoline;
sparks fly and fragile diaphragm explodes.
Envelop me in love aquamarine
that far exceeds our day’s harmonic mean.
Filed under Poetry, Sonnet
There was a moment when he fell right through,
The miasmic mess of the mud pie lies
That you had fed him from a tiny child;
When he let them go and knew he saw truth.
As he slipped on down toward the bottom
And sank further into the bloody hurt;
To the cuts and bruises amid the dirt,
Overcome by stench of something rotten.
The damage caused by the sticks and the stones
Propped open his eyes and pierced his ears;
Lifted the memories up through the years
To lay heavily on his mended bones.
Yet he prays each day as he holds your hand
For the strength to finally understand.