Jul 25, 20191 min readToy CarsUpdated: Mar 2, 2020by Natasha McDonagh Give us pause, don’t blink -Bus stop, young man slumps,With aching neck, winksAt neon screen. The humOf burning cars, hotWith fear and need. Go,Take your chosen lot,Fail tomorrow’s show.Give us pause, don’t blink,Bus stop, kid looks up,To see Brother sinkDeeper. Tired enoughTo sleep but plugged in -No eyes see his smallLost brother’s grinAs rattling plastic toy cars fall. Natasha is a London-based poet and teacher
by Natasha McDonagh Give us pause, don’t blink -Bus stop, young man slumps,With aching neck, winksAt neon screen. The humOf burning cars, hotWith fear and need. Go,Take your chosen lot,Fail tomorrow’s show.Give us pause, don’t blink,Bus stop, kid looks up,To see Brother sinkDeeper. Tired enoughTo sleep but plugged in -No eyes see his smallLost brother’s grinAs rattling plastic toy cars fall. Natasha is a London-based poet and teacher