Content Warning: death, bones, gore
Beth Brooke – Roadkill
Bone splinters, needle-fine;
purple feathers waft in the breeze
that cannot restore
this bird to flight,
warm it into preening.
wings that sliced
the sky now carrion:
glued to the road.
beak twisted, eyes stare
unseeing at the empty sky.
Beth Brooke is a retired teacher. She was born in the Middle East but now lives in Dorset. Her debut collection, A Landscape With Birds will be published later this year by Hedgehog Poetry Press. She Tweets as @BethBrooke8.
Photograph: Felled by Raegen Pietrucha
Raegen Pietrucha writes, edits, and consults creatively and professionally. Her chapbook, An Animal I Can't Name, won the 2015 Two of Cups Press competition; her debut poetry collection, Head of a Gorgon, is forthcoming with Vegetarian Alcoholic Press in May; and she has a memoir in progress. She received her MFA from Bowling Green State University, where she was an assistant editor for Mid-American Review. Her work has been published in Cimarron Review, Puerto del Sol, and other journals. Connect with her at raegenmp.wordpress.com and on Twitter @freeradicalrp.