Road Accident Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

A tilting of sorts
There, look
In the steaming
After-storm road
Like someone
Was ironing the past, present
And future all at once
The knights'helm
Crowned with headlight rim
There's an impossible
Shine on everything
Liquorice tyre
The boys stare,
Can't do the geometry
What a mess
Someone, cut that
Engine
Totem pole stiff
She leans
Like a girl in
The naughty corner

Aimless mobile
As if reading for
Radiation and drops
Onto red-flowered dress