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.