written by: Kirstin Maguire
Well folks, the year started on a sad note when ISIS claimed a suicide bomb
attack in Istanbul, Turkey.
Car Crash Confusion
I’ve got a gut full of pills and a head full of dreams,
Sucking up a windpipe of what might have beens.
And the speed limit signs warn keep it slow,
But his foot is hot with itching at the pedal.
Turn the radio on, let’s bang up the tunes, keep playing.
Past the dubstep and old hip-hop and newsflashes saying
Civilians were the last to get hit.
Yeah, people the subject, the real target.
Anguished faces in cities on fire.
It’s all stacking up in tobacco lung pliers
That grip you down to the bone.
We stumble through the ricochet.
Windscreen wipers making hay
In case that sun ever dares shine on.
On to soul tunes, then some new tunes,
I’m counting magpie silhouettes
“Keep singing” he says “we’re not done yet.”
But I can’t seem to make out words,
All twisted echoes and haunted reverbs
Of explosions and smouldering,
And dodgy pubs with cracked ceilings.
Children’s mouths silenced with shock,
Roadside camps and pillows of rock.
Laddered tights and belly laughs,
Curry stains, charts, graphs, fire shots.
Inspirational quotes and jokey memes,
Amazon sticks and advertising.
There’s tanks knocking out entire cities.
He turns his head and says “God, things aren’t pretty.”
We say goodbye to the things that mattered.
“Let’s pull over” I say, “you must be shattered.”
He clenches a cigarette in fraught teeth.
His squinted smoked eye seeks retreat
In headlights and in darkness,
In raindrops and vague chances.
“I’ll put my foot down, we’ll make a new sound.
Sleep won’t come anytime soon.”
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Poetry from a current affairs based chapbook called ‘Poetry Press: This Was 2016’
- Interview With Kirstin Maguire - May 9, 2017
- October - March 30, 2017
- June - March 16, 2017