Witness: The Wreck On Hwy.78
The sound of it
makes hot bile boil itself
into my throat.
Crash and slow grind
fades to dead silence.
Through my window
I see a small blue convertible.
It is cut clean
from the top to the doors.
Empty, thank God.
But, it isn't.
The truck driver comes,
crawls, head in hands
into my office.
'I think I killed someone' he says.
I make the call to 911,
offer the driver coffee.
He is on his knees
The deputy takes me aside.
Six members of a local family
we all know and love,
out to celebrate a birthday,
each cleanly in half.
Life is no longer visible
through my avoided window.
How do you tell a praying man
what he has done?
This poem was written
from my memory of an actual event.
Shirley Alexander's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Witness: The Wreck On Hwy.78 by Shirley Alexander )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Michael P. McParland
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
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