you ask me, sitting on the smashed roof tiles
and concrete slabs that used to be our home.
We are drinking rainwater and petrol
from a puddle, drying our t-shirts
on the newly exposed wire foundations.
We watch the sky flash orange and violet,
feel the rumbles deep inside our ribcages.
‘No’, I reply, ‘we shouldn’t get involved.
Besides, we’ve got too much cleaning up to do.’
as I gesture at all the debris
and try to disregard the endless rise
and fall of the sirens
Written very quickly in the half time of Bristol Tonic. Prompt was the title. Thanks as always to them.
I’m uploading a few videos to YouTube. Here’s me reading my poem ‘Missed Connection’