Victoria Williams: 0271

Driving Slowly at Night in a Red Car
Shuddering around a sharp bend in the dark,
Pursued,
Gained on,
By a ferocious fiery eyed…
We are caught!
We win the prize!
We sit fat in the road,
Moving slow,
As though swallowed by a giant ladybird,
Now beetling along,
Too heavy to take off,
Moving glossy-topped beneath the moon,
At her own sweet pace,
And much bigger than a shoe.
A composer is beside me,
Hitting empty milk bottles with the stick of his brush,
The sound of hollow glass,
Tink tink tonk.