Death throes in the hedgerows, bones beneath the grass
Flesh and fur and gravel mix, as giant cars crush past
Insects on the windscreens, feathers on the grille
Skulls along the bumpers, red coatings to the sills
Of squashed things.
Airborne fowl make fatal flights, rodents fatal runs
Slugs make fatal slithers to a cliff edge one by one
All share one long grey graveyard, one hallowed stretch of ground
That countless fours of phantom paws, plod around.
Squashed things on the road.
Driving is so tedious, turn the radio on
Switch the heater up full blast, speed along
Cocooned in a cosy corner, at the wheel, on the side. in the front
Gliding along in perfect comfort - what was that bump?
Fox to rook, slug to deer
Can to hedgehog, all lust smears of…
Squashed things on the road.