carryon

carryon

crunching down
on a meal of gravel,
my teeth, red raw
and shattered, bawl
with enamel duress.
as i choke
on bloodied regret.

the ground
caught my cheek
in awkward landing.
now the sky laughs
in gulping sulphur.
a gaping tear
in my side, allows
my heart to escape
like a split yolk.

i lost a shoe
in the impact:
wet black boot,
mislaid in a hedgerow;
blood smiles
on the blackthorn.

three of my ribs
have introduced themselves,
and poking white
they accuse; hints
of the trajectory.

just before the moment
where the bend in the road
outran me, we had
cast words at one another,
flinted fragments,
delivered with pained precision.

now they can never be taken back.
as stubborn in the cold fade
of brain, they lie unseen
by the efforts of forensics.

had i the life left
to power my eyes,
i’d see you stood to one side.
red-eyed, unable to stand.
vomit spots
on the tip of your shoes.

as the day tires itself out,
the sirens wash over your eyes.
the screaming blue shadows on revolve
cannot dry your tears.

the road will be closed
for some time.
an unfamiliar arm
in uniform, guides you home.
a stranger fumbling
to find the ingredients
for hot sugary tea.

barking the crows away,
a team of experts
record me in plastic.
my life neatly underlined
with a handwritten label.

as moonlight moves in
to rinse clean the road,
only patches of sand remain
to tell the tale.

in the hedgerow still,
blood on the blackthorn.