At the rise of Chevening Interchange
my heart ripped, as mother slept
fish-lipped in the wing mirror;
Dad’s pinprick pupils flashed
and dipped in the rear-view mirror.
Alone on the bridge’s brontosaurus heights
I overlooked a silver serpent, stretching
along a great red serpent,
rubbing scales together
under a low horizon, sodium-bowed.
How many souls ingested
as the tyres slumbered over tarmac?
Each lonesome as a three-mile freight train
loping over frozen-bouldered steppes.
Takooba is a writer from Stepney. Another of his poems is due to be published in Thunk Magazine. @takooba