On the Eve
Beyond the traffic
a collision of metal bodies
had occurred.
The muddy waters
of ancestry had stilled
to a mirror.
Some may have
perished in the asphalt
but the caught
were concerned with time.
Grass flew out on the gasps
of emergency vehicles
on a yellow median.
Glass cuts like a door,
apparent as a result
of a researcher’s life.
Mud oozed
from beneath wearing tires,
and the warm month
uncannily tired the followers.
-Robert L. Jackson III
This one is excerpted from Shedding Layers of Ocean.
