Three Poems

DESERT REST HOUSE

A radio bleats, a dog
ponders a rat, clawed and half-alive-
this is nowhere, nothing, a one-night stand
anonymous, available.

Gradations of colour and shadow
presage no angels, we watch them
for what they are, symptoms of a disease
at large within us.

A wrecked car is being explored
by children-as ours will be,
though the mechanic swears
it's fixed now, we can go on.

The light curdles on walls
Tracks lead off, ruts,
into that brief cold clarity
...