The line in winter
It’s faded white, and broken.
The night’s blizzard fills in the cracks, and covers all.
And so, slowing, we search the snow.
The brighter the lights, the less we see.
On the unwelcome curves, just our best guess.
And now, it shows itself with intermittent hints.
We relax, loosen our grip a bit.
Toe the line, straight ahead.
Now, the road ahead shines with mottled ice.
We drift
Adrenalin pumps
Keep control now, no sudden moves.
Compute in instant calculus,
Millimeter motion on the wheel.
The billowed heart slows and shrinks.
We breathe.
Home.
Categories
Lee Dunn View All
Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.
Felt every second of that. My first black ice experience was on a Chicago freeway. Thank the whatevers that I wasn’t driving!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mine was a rollover, and I was driving.
LikeLike