Roadkill

My eyes float the treeline,
proving Nietzsche a liar.
My legs burn the incline,
lifting tubing and tires.
My lungs hum the sunlight
pumping air on the fires.

But on the hill's horizon,
a broken form dirsturbs my peace.
I pump the gears towards the mess of a rodent and hold my breath.
I swerve - awkward.
My breathing hisses through clenched teeth and my eyes clamp
down on his blood.

My only prayer is that he doen't move-
He doesn't.


My eyes float the treeline...