Top-Down

Not keen.
Not for me.

Not at the top.
Not for …
Me?

Orange, glossy, gilled, miniscule.

Unwillingly lurching over, lumping back, avoiding
shiny low bars – perfect for hurdling over – and
secured by man-handled devices.

A short, snappy jolt.

Catapulting high,
head crashing out of exploding glass,
eyes bailing out, cannon-balled over into
the hooped-open mouth of a Suffolk farmer –
low-down in his high-up tractor seat, and
prodding at his molars,
stabbing at seeds, wrenching them out from tight-dark spaces
in his lower jaw.

Success.
Closure.
A throaty lump.
Gulp.
Down.
For you …

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s