Night Highway

Night Highway

It is the ground ground, the slithery sliding slippery wet,

that sucks the heat and breath with a cool clammy eye, and hissing

snapping like the snappy top of Hammer’s hammer.

Boxing this corner of the world in, cornering the corner

slipping the wet thigh, along the night highway

scrunching the dark night into a small benevolent eyeball,

bursting,

just once before the sun quickens across the sky

falling backwards into a dream sleep

and here we are again

along this cool edge of the last day.

The Wild Angels Poets and Writers Anthology

A Body of Work: Writing with Heart, Soul and Senses

My submissions- by Sandra Lee Schubert © All Right Reserved 2006

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Sandra Lee Schubert © All Rights Reserved, 2006-2009

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