i got my sick ducks
in a semblance row
& i forced-march them
thru the niche cavities
of government administration
or what passes for it
in these hijacked days
i realise now
i was grating myself
for an overlords brunch
& in the kitchen
the tap drips like a clock
into the strategy sponge
knocking and drilling
for a year
next
door
pauses
for a row
wild raised voices
a
bellow - GEEEET OOOOUT!
i can feel the hot heads tight panic
the
destabilised fire
the
icy eyes - like i'm there/like its me
front door slams/shakes the masonry
and
of course i look out the window
the
daughter
drives her hatchback angry
free hand
hiding
her
eyes - i feel her desperation in one glimpse
and
it
rings
primal
bells
its
apocalypse for a quiet man
even
when
its
next
door
