Landscape, Mid-Consequence


The oft-oppressive miracles
of the combustion engine beckon
from whiny highways of a degradation
we must call fair

An asymmetrical face
appears in the exhaust drift
between the taillight and license plate
of an idling sedan

What is meant to show
is pre-failed presidents and glittering

The residue accumulates
The aperture in danger of occlusion
The substance mysterious

Every night walking home
I hear someone having the worst night of their life

By the car dealerships, the sky opens up
Supposed solutions flicker and flare
from Gideon’s Bible to giddy-on out of town

Try to look closer
But the subterfuge that goes into seeing a face
won’t necessarily relent

Colin Dodds is a writer with several novels and books of poetry to his name. He lives in New York City, with his wife and daughter. You can find more of his work at