blink
day wrought through the cloud formation,
rays of sunlight splicing still air,
the watery road-ribbon in heat.
his eyes betray him.
blink.
the tyres skid, brakes squealing,
front of car crumples up like his old man's accordion,
projectiling him though the windshield,
his clothes torn and tugged on by the cracked wiper.
eyelids fluttering against glass.
blink.
blood ripples from ripped-up head,
face, arms, legs, torso... skin.
the flight in unbearable slow-mo,
pause, suspended in celestial glory,
arms flailing, ground rising,
smackdown head-first.
pupil, iris, eyes on black.
blink.
bone splinters through skin through impact
on the tarmac, speed-smoked.
bounce! flip! roll, arms out,
crucified on yellow dashes.
nails snapping back against the ground.
lashes on blood-smeared cheek and brow.
blink.
gravity and inertia play tug-o-war,
both laying claim to him until Newton wins out;
splayed, displayed on the cooling road.
eyes wide open behind glazed glass.
blink.
purpling skies bruise into night,
painful pinpricks of starlight peeping into blindness.
a meteorite flashes, falls,
burns itself to ash like the smoldering wreck.
twisted patterns of metal, glass and skin.
he watches in breathless awe, the fall of light,
the fall of life,
not daring to blink,
or he might miss it.