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I
Little brother You are moving through the night on your way, on your way At the ending of the day shadows play, shadows play And her scent is on the air follow there, follow there For the moon is on the rise feel her pulse, feel her tide. But little brother do not go not today, not today Though the moon is on the rise stay inside, stay inside Though her scent is on the air don’t go there, don’t go there Don't go wandering that way run and hide, run and hide. For the demon light will come rolling on, rolling on He is pounding through the night like a drum, like a drum He will take you in his stride and be done, and be done When the blows are raining down you don’t want to be around. Ah now brother there you lie gentle form, gentle form Though the light shines in your eye and your belly is still warm Though I touch your tawny hide there you lie, there you lie Though I weep, though I cry you are gone, you are gone. Little Brother we are kin you and I, you and I Little Brother when you die so do I, so do I. 
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Roadkill, Photograph by artist Brenda Runnegar
II
Family shame Mother I see you lying there, your silver grey gone dun, even your shrieking fear grown cold, your flying beat out run. Brother I touch you tenderly, your breathing barely still, your trundling path cut violently, your tawny eyes all nil. Lady your wing moves in the wind, its straying reach a cheat, Beauty, grace and freedom pinned, your piping song complete. Though bloodied, bludgeoned, murdered, killed, you lie in graceless state, no wreaths, no prayer, no elegy, our mourning inchoate. We shy at the stench, roll windows shut curse the morning rush, speed on, speed on to nowhere, to nothing we can touch. For though we see you lying there, my brother, sister, kin, we are past all grief and tearless, silent in shared sin. All content on this website is © Imogen Wall unless otherwise stated.
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IMOGEN WALL
