Sometimes in life you can be ambushed by a moment of pure terror. Everything seems to be going along swimmingly and then, suddenly, it isn’t. This is a poem about one of those moments. It’s also about raisins.
When Jo was young
He really liked a raisin
You know the ones in boxes
The ones you get in snack packs
At all the supermarkets
And when the kids are little
You buy them stuff like that
because they’re fruit
And because they’ll eat them
Anyway
He had a taste for Raisins.
It doesn’t snow round here
Just doesn’t do it
Except maybe once a decade
Not properly anyway
So when it does it’s big news
It’s something you don’t miss
You pack the bags
The macks and hats
Big coats, big boots and gloves
Some biscuits and some raisins
Jump in the car and drive
Drive towards the hills
You can see white tops for miles
Catching the excitement
In everybody’s smiles
This is going to be so fun
The boys are gonna love it
We’re getting near the tree line
Rising up above it
Into open moorland
Just look at the snow
Chanting at the sight
Just look at the snow
Every shade of white
Low sun casting shadows
reaching the top of a rise
Descending into darkness
On a rink of black ice
Brain please tell me
How to drive on ice
quickly or this isn’t
Going to work out nicely
I have my whole world
Sitting in this car
But it’s already too late
We’re sliding too far
To the left and I have lost it
Lost control
Of the car
Of my mind
And my limbs
Refuse to do
Any of the things that
I am telling them to.
I’m not driving now
I see the bonnet
Lean in to greet the verge
A surge of panic
Sickening fear
The back of the car
Begins to rear up like a
Bolting stallion
And we’re turning over
And when we finish turning over
What will happen to the car
Will it crumple on our heads
Will it crush my children
Spin and fall and scream
four screams, I count
And now we are rolling
Onto the side and everything
Inside the car has exploded
into life CDs and pens and
Breadsticks fly around our heads
With the raisins.
And still on the ice
We continue to slide
Screaming our lungs out
The car still on it’s side
And we slow and we come
To rest against a wall
Alive with the adrenaline
That’s pumping through us all
But alive. Still alive
Except Jo still cries out
As we hang in the air
He’s reaching through the window
There’s something out there
He’s still holding the box
But it’s empty in his hand
Raisins scattered on the ground
Like grains of black sand.
Out of reach, never to be
A tasty snack time treat
Which was too much for Jo.
He had a taste for Raisins.
Photo by Erda Estremera on Unsplash.
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