Beachy Head

Bent trees without leaves
Growing out of the wind
Muscular prongs pointing to
The dismal outcrop.
Thick with chalky pebbles
Devoid of thick grass here
The waves are crashing on the rocks,
And the lighthouse looks down.

Round the corner, see the sign
That confirms your fears.
Parking tickets blown away by the wind,
We stop for lunch at Beachy Head.

The wrappings of old flowers blown
Against the warning sign.

Apple Blossom

Fall, white snow, at my feet
So prone, prostrated and so very passive
Sentimental, silent and cold

Whisper words as you fall
Apple blossom, surrounding me
Enclose me in your circle

Protected and enclosed
You will fall like silken curtains
I sink, still at last.

Stolen Car

This isn’t light. Half-light, glowing
From the horizon, muddying
The road around the lights.

Sick to the stomach, careering across
Into the far lane.

The left light smashed in,
A patch of amber glass marks the spot
Left on the roadside when morning arrives
And people want to leave.

The frenzied pace of pain.