the road with Kevin Gillam

the road - by Kevin Gillam and Allan Boyd

the road scars right, across the
crippled self; also scissored, a
palm of land, tumbling, dwindling,
busting like a burst hot-dog
a groove, a history, a way in,
a fissure of sermons
worn and healed slick
a scoff of wallpaper

the road, oil on linen, bitumen
peeled mandarin, corrosive
on peat, with all the gradations
a fantastic corrugation of her
of shadow, bruise to smear to brush
n cane, not sugar

the road, cloud above scuffed and
bent too much in offshore reasons
tugged by wind, rain sifting down,
making all the driest of kids, wet.
the ‘haar’ they call it here,
no further than the next horizon
cold breath of wet
hurt, welts - his stories

the road, its dip and sway, blur
under windscreen black gravel stars
of scrub, the urge, glimpse of roof,
the capture of heathland rain
swerve, the early dark, the entrance
closed, and open