Death throes in the hedgerows, bones beneath the grass 
Flesh and fur and gravel mix, as giant cars crush past 
Insects on the windscreens, feathers on the grille 
Skulls along the bumpers, red coatings to the sills
Of squashed things.
Airborne fowl make fatal flights, rodents fatal runs 
Slugs make fatal slithers to a cliff edge one by one 
All share one long grey graveyard, one hallowed stretch of ground 
That countless fours of phantom paws, plod around.
Squashed things on the road.
Driving is so tedious, turn the radio on 
Switch the heater up full blast, speed along 
Cocooned in a cosy corner, at the wheel, on the side. in the front 
Gliding along in perfect comfort - what was that bump?
Fox to rook, slug to deer 
Can to hedgehog, all lust smears of…
Squashed things on the road.