"Rush Hour"
The amber glare of the street lamps
reflected off the shiny police tape
set up to protect the scene
from the wandering curious.
The bright flares so carefully placed by policemen
were indifferent to the man
who lay, one hand on yellow lines,
still now, as the twisted taxi
smoked and filled the heavy air
with the smell of oil and burning.
But life pressed on and barely paused.
It drove cautiously by and gazed in wonder
then turned away
to think of coming home to dinner
after a long day at the office
and how much fun the dance would be.
It worried about
Papers to write, chores to do,
and whether it was late.
for working the night shift.
As life moved in the dark green grass
parting the blades and
filling the air with music as
in a battlefield by the side of the road
soldiers attacked and lives were lost
and bodies twitched in crushing mandibles,
But the Queen was protected
and invaders driven, keening, from topsoil.
Life teemed in the air.
It danced on the pores
of sweating paramedics
and reclaimed curdled blood,
digesting it back
into the cycle of things.
As someone's son was lifted gently
off the slick black road.