Fields of Asphodel
Yellow lines. Slate-grey asphalt.
Blooms of puddled street light.
Asphalt teeth over fields of Asphodel.
LEDs in the name of Christ:
London cabbie hails from Lahore.
Home, hates it there. A victim here,
a land of curry, land of cold rain.
Yellow lines swallowed by black taxis.
Like slurping ramen. Or spaghetti.
We all gotta eat. We all gotta go places.
I buckle in and swallow—home, James
and don’t spare the seven horses.
Take me home to the Fields of Elysium
and take your sweet, sweet time.
My life in the hands of a stranger—
at least we all have that in common.
Un-grit those teeth and taste the light.
Take me home to the meadows, James,
and don’t spare the horses.
Yann Rousselot is a technical translator and creative writer living in the Paris region. He is a graduate of the Sorbonne Nouvelle and the University of London Institute in Paris, in language studies and translation respectively. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in the following print and online publications: The Newer York, Thought Catalog, Poet & Geek, the Bastille Magazine, the Belleville Park Pages, Two Words For and Paris Lit Up Magazine. Topics and themes of interest include SETI & the cosmos; the animal kingdom; surreal, fantastical and speculative literature; space opera; Kaiju domestication. His first collection of poems, Dawn of the Algorithm, is to be published with Inkshares. Contact: yesrousselot.wordpress.com