Obsession – Poem by Rona Campbell


The hush, the slush of we wheels,

then the sound of a distant

wise voice, ‘don’t touch the brakes.’


Four tyres are tracked,

snailed to the road.

These past and present

Strips are mirrored behind and

screened in front,

make me too aware of

my passing entrails.


The voice again – ‘it’s time to turn back.’


‘The night is closing in.’


‘There’s nobody else on the road.’


‘Remember its rise and its fall.’


‘Don’t  get stuck.’


I stare at the

smug settling in of

rooted inhabitants;

the rush mapped bogs,

and the snaking stream.


They never fear their

sense of direction.


Tyres spin, the night grins;

a bridge.


The light is cut.

One last shot?