Seeing Red

Ruddy stain
spreads over guilty sky.
Dawn breaks, shamefaced.

Brake lights blink, bloodshot.
Ignition-shocked
cars crawl, petrol-fuming.

Ranks of crimson
power-crazed lights.
Traffic flow stemmed.

Flushed scarlet
warning signs apologise.
Banks of cones close in.

No front line advance.
No ground gained.
Trapped here, seeing red.

Published inĀ The Journal #26: spring 2009

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