poetry critical

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there's been a roll-over on 9W

I suppose it takes time
passing, I suppose it
takes snow falling
inside windows, a blizzard
by my bedside
I suppose it takes not
one but two to say
"don't go that way"
and an ear beaten
bloody to listen
You never feel trapped
until you're asked
to move; find you can't
"the car's leaking gasoline"
as if I can't smell it
It's OK, it's cold, it'll
take an effort to go get help;
you don't listen, your hand
stuck to glass chasing
your skin's warmth
you should leave
before the sun goes down,
and anyway I'll be here
for a while longer.

8 Jan 18

(define the words in this poem)

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