Crash

He said what he knew he thought she heard.
Falling off sideways, and speaking in code.

Their Northern lights fell from the left of the sky.
and lit up the pot holes in the cross-road.

She took photographs and drank coffee, next
to the road kill, in the dust and the black the ash.

She walked away, and she watched him go,
He couldn’t look into her face after the crash.

So, he said what he knew he thought she heard,
Falling off forewords and speaking in code.

What she whispered when his back was turned,
Only her feet and the ground below them will know.