Flicker On The Freeway Poem by William Kruse

A flicker flew above the grass,
barely aloft in flight,
toward home on the horizon
to feed and spend the night.
I never saw it coming
until it was too late,
and the spike upon my Chrysler's hood,
the Transfixer of Fate,
flayed, eviscerated and dispassionately pitched
the bird's now lifeless body
and left it in the ditch.
Feathers, bowels and blood were it's final, silent scream.
When I got home and washed the car, it all came off quite clean.