BODIES

When they go down

they are just bodies

in a box. They are

bodies and nothing

else. They are not

what they were, but

bodies disappearing

into the earth. They

do not exist, but are

bodies nonetheless.

Somewhere they are.

Going down. Burying

the bodies in earth.

Who are they? Bodies

that moved. In bodies

is all that mattered

when they were. 
The bodies are sunk.

The bodies in earth.
The bodies are not us.

BODIES AFTER A MOTORCYCLE ACCIDENT INVOLVING A PEDESTRIAN

Neither moves.
One boiler-lagged on its back.
The other on its back.
One leg bent.
The other straight.
It is like sleeping together.

A finger on Tarmac.
A finger in a leather glove.
A finger bent in hair.
A gasp. A shout. A breath.

It is like sleeping together.
One stares skyward.
The other looks West.
One fears and cares.
The other is waking.
Neither moves.

Bodies are circling in headlamps.
Bodies are hovering through drizzle.
Bodies are ringing in their ears.
Can you hear me mate?

Listen to the songify version: here