Split Second Poem by Sheena Blackhall

A golden day at harvest time
Kingfisher blue and cloudless,
Fields glowing with ripened grain

Passengers doze in the bus
Like drowsy bumblebees
Drugged by warmth
The purring of the wheels

Brakes screech, we all lurch forward

Somebody's split second error
Has spilled four cars in terror
Like dice from a shaker

We witness a tragedy unfolding
Are there welts? Are there weals?
We are a near miss

Trapped in their crushed cages
Chalk faced drivers shudder
Streaked in blood.
Sirens scream from emergency services

Stopped drivers drum their steering wheels
Impatient to be gone
Having places to go that
Don't entail misfortune