Poetry

Full Stop

Your helmet like a black round mark
Was still in place, marking the end
Marking the place where you
Came to your abrupt conclusion
A sentence uncompleted
Cut short in

And we pass by you
Hurtling forward on to the road
Hardly time to grab hold of scraps of you
To take with us over the swell
Where you will be left behind
Cut off in

The force and fullness of you
Could not be held in a single statement
You would get to the end before you
Got to the end, the gathering energy
Rolling you into a premature stop.

Bridie Moore