Night Driving

Short poem about a journey in the night.

Pupils swallowing the shadows,

skin washed away.

Eyes sore in the cloudy moonlight,

another slow coach, another five miles.

A rumble of pollution,

blowing a hole in the tin.

A red devil,

sweeping a corner, tyres to the white.

A loud drum steals the night,

gathered in the west wind's arms.

Travel by the black and white superstitions,

fur and bones crowd the slick wet.

Reviews

[Bare Trees]

I always drive at night with trepidation. I can see by your words (expressively written I might add) that I am not alone. Your words re indeed creative. Your degree paid off.

[Aimee Holt]

Thank you and yes I thought I would give it a voice.