in the slow red rivers of rush hour
a woman sawed stars for a woman
pulled her like a new-born from the wreckage
and sheep threw their arms out from windows
fondled her with androids saving her death.
at the unnamed island I thought of her
and lampposts hung like dead daffodils
flickered pink to grey, morse coding –
her name one last time to yellow tape;
hey look at the sky it has come undone.
I’ll film sunset over the hard shoulder
ping pong moon to heaven from Bedworth
and use my android to save myself –
for human nature is a burning Toyota
lit by robots on unnamed islands.