The erosion of hope

If six were nine

I drove my car so fast ..

I drove my car so fast into the morning thinking of ...

my sister crushed beneath spinning wheels

my father

in a Hertfordshire lay-by

as he pumps blood into his one last exit heart attack

as my son spews helpless and tethered to a chair

and .....

crash, bang, wallop!

what a pile-up.

Wind whipped

Beached

I crawl,
as a ghost rising, low keen to a winter's day
the wind rush

A beach

flax and sand
cut razor-sharp to
shells
and lowing sky

whips

scudding.

On the Tiles