She reclines, graceful, on the bitumen
to the side of the road
nursing the primary blues and reds
of her billowing entrails.
Their brazenness, in the she-oak muted landscape
through which she has been a moving shadow,
fills her gaze with vacant fly-infested astonishment.
What has she been hiding from herself –
this lurid complexity
pulsing to heaven knows what life?
She cannot take her eyes off it,
now darkening, closing down.
She contemplates the onset of decay
and the mystery unravelling.
© Sarah Day