Victoria is an Australian writer currently living in Edinburgh, Scotland. She’s been published in literary anthologies and The Canberra Times.
There’s many seductive curves, gnarly bitumen
too narrow for a major highway,
unraveling open-necked into a four-lane highway,
smooth engineering emerges out of nowhere –
on past more bananas the radio crooning easy schmaltz.
At Christmas there’s only so much boot space
for six packs of festive cheer, bonbons, nappies.
My mind’s on automatic and I’ve stopped the car.
Scissoring waving arms, hissing trucks at a standstill,
yet everything so silent, in a warm coastal drizzle.
Now, kneeling lucid on fractured glass, isolated
alongside twisted steel, I can’t see life. Just a voice releasing,
escaping, then the tangled arm that braked the car, and failed.
Tendons of coaxial cable melt into a lake of blood and fuel.
A radio aerial strains around a violet-blue hand.
While her voice still flies away she doesn’t want my buoyant questions.
“Help’s coming soon” seems trite. Time’s intensity dissolves
and leaves me frightened for myself. An island can be anywhere.
As our fears flare, everyone’s stood back, an extra arm’s length
from our conversation.
Sweet Beats For Keats, 2012, London Metropolitan Archives, ISBN 0-9518109-5-2
Famous Reporter 44, 2012, Walleah Press, ISSN 0819-5978
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