That Alaskan Stutter

That Alaskan stutter,
That neon gas station

Flickering light
Into the wilderness,

An illuminated trail,
Cars steaming at the roadside,

Seething dots
Freckled with frost.

That icy unravelling,
That single diner glowing

Like a dying match’s
Last flame,

That little curl of charcoal,
The smell of diesel

Wafting through the forest
As the branches chatter

The woodcutter’s lost dream,
Jagged tyre tracks and tears,

Circling buzzards
And screams.

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One Response to “That Alaskan Stutter”

  1. A sensual treat. I particularly like:

    Wafting through the forest
    As the branches chatter.

    Yum!

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