Just a Bend
 
Just a bend, sharp,
wide the ribbed pothole, like crocodile's fangs,
                          tires grated on the fast road
swerved off, the crush
    Of metal into the granite shoulder,
 
the shower
of split glass, the bruised head
      dangling
 
over the window; upturned the glinting black SUV,
weaving up fumes
    its fragrance of burning rubber, burning flesh
like cordite
 
chafes the lungs in this lonesome dusk –
 
these and all this blood
dripping
    down the dirt-choked ditch
bear out my view of Daedalus's invention,
    of technology’s fickleness.