The following poem that I'm posting was the first one I saw when I opened my old notebook. I completely forgot about it and can't remember why I wrote it. I just can't imagine what would cause me to write about roadkill, but clearly I did.
A pungent smell rises
And hangs in the air.
Out of the split
Seeps that which normally cannot be seen.
The pink intertwines with the red
And soaks into the blacktop.
Scraps of fur, and maybe bones,
Litter the line dividing the cars.
Lifeless limbs once again
Are recklessly manipulated by the passing tires
As drivers unaware pass over
Only to hear a disheartening thud.
Breaking their speed for only a second
Realizing that was flesh they just hit
The drivers continue on thinking nothing of it
Already dead by nothing they did.