by Lindz McLeod
When we drove up the coast.
I saw so many bodies.
Two hedgehogs, one seagull. I have questions—
what happened to the gull? I can understand
The hedgehogs but not the gull; surely, surely
it would have been higher, freer,
not stuck to the gluedried earth.
like I am. I would never have flown near
any car if I was a gull.
I would remember
To avoid people.
One hare too, but that was different.
The ribcage was exposed, a bite taken from the
Heart body left intact
A fitting warning.
The stars have dusted you with love;
they cried out while my lips compared.
I swallow all your thrown mistakes,
the grape-sour taste of lesson learned.
I wonder how fast we need to be going
For the asphalt to knock me out.
About the Author
Lindz McLeod lives in Edinburgh, Scotland. Her work has been longlisted for the Fish Publishing Flash Fiction prize; her short stories have been published on 365 Tomorrows, Dreamscape Press and more, while others are available in the Twisted Aardvark Flash Fiction anthologies on Amazon. She has published poetry with Wingless Dreamer; more will be published shortly with PsychoScope. She is a committee member of the Edinburgh Writer’s Club, and is currently reading for a Masters in Creative Writing.