st george’s road, 7.13pm

It had already occurred
when I passed by.

Though the glass seemed freshly strewn,
confetti for a deadly wedding,

the obscenities of shock
were already evaporating from the air.

The benign winking of the police lights – almost gay –
and a candy-stripe tongue of hazard tape

let pedestrians and motorists alike
pass with distracted irritation:

the mangled carcass of the family sedan
no matter to them now.

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s