Between highways 52 and 403,
there is a gnarled and arthritic road.
Chaotic paving its only concession to normalcy.

Skulking its way through a pockmarked landscape,
this crude artery secretes a poison
causing homes and farms along its skin edge
to fester as warts and boils.

No livestock graze, the pond by the bridge is dark and empty.
There are animals though-
night creatures.
They can be seen, bloody and eviscerated on the scrawny shoulder.

Algal blooms, sulphur springs, and root rot
scent this track.
A funeral stench without the mask of lilies.

But the worst is the trees.
Skeletal victims of fungus and mistletoe
waving their fleshless limbs in desperation and warning.

Heed them and do not linger on Jerseyville Road.