I felt the colours brushing off my face
as I drove through Summer’s exuberance.
I was an arrow, dull-rusted by time,
blunted maybe, aimless, but on a course
set by some naked marriage of fury
and desire. All I saw were like airwaves,
trembling wrinkles hiding behind make up’s
smooth public face of a pretending life.
Here was where the bite meets the blood;
where dark dread drives shame’s secrets;
where hope loses hold and the voices set their terms.
Here was where bodies hang in the darkness
and we take shelter in the helplessness
of the ripe barley, the soaring buzzard
and pale smiles of polite recognition