Road Death

Choked up clouds
masquerade as night. In
Sliproads, cat's eyes glint,
wink back at us and guide.

Jester of the road,
with load of
young unartful lusts.
The wind, the dust
tore up tarmac, cremated tyres,
spun and now these funerals pyres
burn all our world, these scorching flames,
Hot rod games,
Screech out the last requiem.
Young man's fender-bender
wiser now and cold.

He lost control, headlamps dipped and flipped.
Ripped pain and metal,
the last thing heard and
blue-lipped damage,
bruises, finger-bone exposed.
Petals of slow exploded ash
Caress him as he grasps the street to bleed
Flung with force from Father's mighty steed.
Sparks flash bright, in oil he lies.
Then on the cold road,
There he dies.