‘another kind of road sign, small but clear’
Roadside memorials
Another kind of road sign, small but clear,
these plywood crosses twined with plastic flowers
– and every Monday more of them appear.
Stop and listen closely: you can hear
the screeching to a halt of days and hours.
Another kind of road sign, small but clear.
Tied to a wheel that can no longer steer,
a tattered photo weathers sun and showers
– and every Monday more of them appear.
The best mate sometimes visits with a beer
and sits and chats, observed by puzzled cows.
Another kind of road sign, small but clear.
The younger cousins bring a teddy bear;
pull up the weeds and add some lego towers.
And every Monday more of them appear.
‘It’s easier to feel him with us here,
the last place that he saw while he was ours’.
Another kind of road sign, small but clear.
And every Monday more of them appear.
(c) Melinda Smith 2011
Published in Quadrant Magazine October 2011
The a-b-a structure in all but the last stanza and the repetition of the last line in each stanza drives homes the terrible regularity of these accidents, Melinda – you have captured the detailed images of these roadside memorials as if they were photographs.
It’s a villanelle, like Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night. Quite suited to meditative poems and explorations of loss. Glad you liked it. M
Very well written piece of poetry, not surprised that it was published, well done.
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