It takes an age
for the wheels to stop spinning,
for time to rush back
like air into a vacuum.
The road swerved up into us
and down this embankment,
now we’re stuck in the trees.
I can’t move my neck
but my hands seem to work,
they’re trying to unbuckle the seatbelt.
I feel swallowed, a tunnel through
bent trunks gapes at the motorway.
There are lights, orange and blue.
I can see lights.