The page of day resides, smudged, when
dragged across a sheet of gray sleet,
granite and asphalt.
Automobiles encapsulate the frail
seeds of life, safe within their metal pods
surrounded in a placenta of devises,
suspended within straps;
the sky glowers.
A hairpin curve between jagged cliffs
seeps moisture upon the chill laden
surface of the road waiting, waiting;
the car and its driver
lulled by rock music,
In the sacred space of an indrawn breath
the car slides, unanchored; its windows vibrating;
its wipers swishing, its driver stunned;
a watercolor view of peaceful death
rises with the disturbed leaves
uncontrolled by man, God’s
Yet, today is not the day;
life is re-gifted within the sanctuary of
space-time; the bumper brushes
the briars of nascent spring and stops,
facing wrong way, turning right,
fulfilling the haven of faith.
Deborah Guzzi writes full time. Her third book, The Hurricane, is available through Prolific Press. Her poetry appears in Allegro, Artificium, Shooter & The Foxglove Journal in the UK, Existere, The Ekphrastic Review, Scarlet Leaf Review & Subterranean Blue Poetry, Canada – Tincture, Australia – mgv2>publishing, France Cha: Asian Review, China – Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Australia – The Scarlet Leaf Review – Greece, Ribbons, pioneertown, Sounding Review, Bacopa Literary Review, The Aurorean, Liquid Imagination, The Tishman Review, Page & Spine & others in the USA.