The car broke down five miles from
home, no-one in sight.
I stooped, cheek an inch from the wet
earth and craned to look
underneath like I could spot the
fault, try to fix it.
A snapped axle frames a blade of
green engulfed by rust
verdant, rotting, speckled with cairns
hurled by nameless gods
in their gambles. Fronds shaggy, un-
trimmed, giving way
only to sheep, straggling, black eyes
glazed, watching with all
the slack interest of those who have
never considered death.
It’s the first time anyone has
ever seen this, I say
to myself, before I begin to
hike down the cliff side.