By
John RC Potter
Black heap. Dark.
Bleeding.
A prisoner of the car’s
headlights.
I closed my eyes to
shut out that image.
Forcing the memory to
fade away into a blackout.
I saw a raccoon lying
on the side of the road last night
on his back, freshly
dead, his paws raised in supplication;
he reminded me of me:
but can the dead still
be moved through manipulation?
Water drops. Opaque.
Streaming.
Rivulets across the
car’s windscreen.
I opened my eyes to be
able to see clearer.
But the memories came
back like a relentless waterfall.
Whenever I see raccoons
lying dead on the road,
they remind me of all
those who have loved and lost:
dead and dying hearts
on this endless highway of love,
whose owners took a
chance but at quite a high cost.
Road hard. Inky.
Winding.
The wheels of the car
turning over endlessly.
I rubbed my eyes to
clear the cobwebs.
Then forgetting to
swerve to miss the roadkill.
I saw a raccoon dying
on the side of the road last night
on his back, still
alive, wondering what had happened to him;
he reminded me of me:
just a heap on the
highway of love as the light grows dim.
About the Author:
John RC Potter is an international educator from Canada, living in Istanbul. His poems, stories, essays, and reviews have been published in a range of magazines and journals, most recently in Blank Spaces, (“In Search of Alice Munro”, June 2023), Literary Yard (“She Got What She Deserved”, June 2023), Freedom Fiction (“The Mystery of the Dead-as-a-Doornail Author”, July 2023), and The Serulian (“The Memory Box”, September 2023). The author has over a dozen upcoming publications in the coming months, including an essay in The Montreal Review. His story, “Ruth’s World” (Fiction on the Web, March 2023) has recently been nominated for the prestigious Pushcart Prize. More details about the poet can be found here:
Another well written poem, straight from the heart. I always look forward to reading more of John's published poems and short stories.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your review. It's really a lovely poem by John.
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