Watch The Road

I had exhorted myself
not to watch –
but my capacity to let
myself down
wins old momentum’s
slow ways/
A four-times-father-of../
More times
worse with [or without]
four of my own
on an uneven grey road/
I am alone –
having left her ring from
my limp finger/
She exited - from home/
I wait [bare]
without a firearm on us
[in my palm]/
No weapons left - apart
our deaths/
On that road from home
breath tires/
Pull - breathe out & watch
The Road


A poem about ‘The Road‘ – a film based upon Cormac McCarthy’s novel. I had promised myself never to watch it, but recent events have dulled my sensibilities

Also on Medium

Box Set

We are drunk-slumped
drugged by red wine
and the wide screen
into the L-shaped sofa

that and the sequential playback
of episodes long ago watched

It is a life now rewound
made so unstoppable
by a misplaced remote

Time no longer exists
for us
the once-tuned
to watersheds and news
played only on the hour

We don’t pace ourselves
with the TV breaks

Instead it’s consumed
in bibulous retakes