Poem: ‘‘Dooms’’
Martha Sprackland, 8 May 2014
for Roy ‘Dooms’ Sullivan (1912-83)
In ’42 the first bolt announced itself, cut a strip from his right leg and left him grappling the mud, smoke rising from the bloody cauter. The rain touched his face with the brief regret of someone who has knocked out their lover.
The second hauled him from the window of his truck, razed his hairline, and split his brow in factions...