Poems

Night’s setting in. The only night.

Let’s drive far from redbrick rows

to roads that weave

through whale-bone trees

splitting

as stars burst

over farms

and silent commons,

chase the frost-flecked air

as full beams grasp

a fox tail’s rush

through hedge.

     Jolt right,

a hedgehog

taps slow toes

on tarmac;

slow like midnight’s freezing stream.

Your chassis’ brittle ribs

flake and flutter

like moonbeam caught in bracken.

Moths catch in whirlpool whips

of headlights

rattling along

the pockmarked trail

​

until I cut the engine out.

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​This poem was shortlisted for the Live Canon Prize 2015.