Smog
I gaze upon a moon so full and bright beneath my feet
The stillness of unbroken waters where reflections meet
The creaking and the straining as the old bridge wants me rid
Shall not give me cause to flee… as once it surely did
There along the water’s edge as fifty years gone by
A bay trod down by bovine hooves; a fishing spot for I
A recollection of myself, with canvas for a roof
When in the night the fish would bite and morning was my proof
And proof indeed was needed as the local kids would swear
“No one catches nothing much out of that river there.”
How often have I doubted that those children all survived
But no one told me nothing when authorities arrived
My friends were in relationships and did as they were told
So I would fish the night alone; I feared no dark, nor cold
But night shall have its fun although you may be unafraid
And what I saw assailed my mind and in my mind it stayed
These matches that I carry although never have I smoked
I also carried way back then for campfires that I stoked
And when that viscous smog came down I struggled to respire
But it moved off to meet those kids while shrinking from my fire
The cows that trod my fishing spot had gathered as I fished
I wasn’t scared of cows so they could drink if they so wished
But every cow enshrouded by that awful smog was doomed
And singularly vanished like they’d somehow been consumed
And with those children in its ‘sight’ it veered not left nor right
The children ran toward it, when they should have taken flight
No screaming nor no joyous laughter broke the silence then
With no more meat to feed upon… it came for me again
I stood weak kneed but nonetheless I quickly glanced around
For weapons that might fight a fog that somehow might be found
When I recalled it skirting round my fire as it went
I kicked some burning embers… and set fire to my tent
It came, it circled ’round me and I heard its heart beat, loud
And as my tent was near burnt out, a movement of a cloud
Sunlight saved my life that day, so bright, so warm, so real
I swear to you, all this is true… I swear I heard it squeal
And then, when it was gone, I didn’t wait for any bus
I left my stuff and I just ran, I didn’t make a fuss
No joy in reminiscing, when I heard that “Kids are missing.”
I had to tell detectives what occurred when I was fishing
*****
The ridicule, relentless, so I kept my mouth shut tight
I never spoke another word about that awful night
But why is it that I’m compelled to play once more its game
I know it’s mad, but is it somehow, calling out my name?
Gasoline or petrol, you may call it what you will
I brought with me a lot of it… however did it spill ;-)
Of course I spilt it carefully; the trail starts at my feet
But I’m no hero and I trust I’ll beat a quick retreat
I watch the skies and realise the early morning light
Reveals a fast encroaching smog and I prepare to fight
And now, at last, it’s me-and-it and I must stand my ground
And if I can’t prevail I hope my body shall be found
I smell it, I can taste it, I can almost hear it breathe
But can it think and can it know what I have up my sleeve
When Its end of this ailing bridge is hidden as it nears
I strike a match and bring to it the worst of all its fears
The flame ignites the trail of fuel and streaks into its midst
And as the river bank erupts I think it might be pissed
A screeching sears my ear drums; has the end of it begun?
I have to trust to luck for now its time for me to run
As you might expect I’ve taken to the other bank
I’ve run just twenty paces when I smell a smell that’s rank
But now my ears have found a peace; the silence is profound
I fear that smog is at my back, but still I turn around…
No big scare, but over there upon the land I burned
No sign of the smog that ‘me-for-breakfast’ clearly yearned
But wait! What is that slimy gloop that blankets yonder field?
I tell myself, with fingers crossed, that, “It was it that kneeled.”
Why did it prowl the mists of mornings ’fore the risen sun
Perhaps it stalked a waking Earth since mornings first begun
I only hope I’ve killed it though I shall not wait to see
But…
I’ve put the fear of God in it and it the same in me
Copyright ©
Terry Flood
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