Monday, 19 September 2011

Poems from Sam Bentley-Toon


On a high mountain road
we hit a dog.
It flew beneath the wheel
like a pale bird.

It made two thuds like a
Pothole and was dead.

I looked back and saw another dog
standing in the wake of the event,
its lips pursed like a wolf
in a howl of grief.

The driver glanced at
the rear view mirror.
We continued alongside
the clear cool river.

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