After the Kill

He hears again the far off jiggling of keys in an ignition, as the car rocks his ears magnifying scrapes of sound. eyes still seeing strafing lights on a dim road. He had already turned from the windscreen, A dark evening, a gritty sleet, and under it, the bloodied head, the matted fur, the thin shanks of shock laid bare – then the second car. That car disjoints and deforms a creature into a death-spread. Moths, like dark flowers press against his dazed thoughts. Warm metal ticks on.