The motorway's a spool unwinding west,
Our coach a cruise cocoon now this hang-
over threatens brittle oblivion at best,
At worst apocalypse. The sun's hushed clang!
Rays cascading until each roof, each leaf
Tilts a mirror toward the sky. Light and
More light: Dazzling headbath, the mind's relief
In weightless splashes, iridescent strands:
It quick-threads traffic, is reflected
Off hubcaps, railings, fabric and essence
Of sight itself. Eclipse via destination
Can wait. No stasis quite like motion,
I sit, blink, sit, purpose in abeyance -
Command-posts temporarily disconnected...
Martin Wilmot Bennett
If you've any comments on this poem, Martin Wilmot Bennett
would be pleased to hear from you.