Tuesday, 1 June 2010

They were wearing headsets.

They were wearing headsets, they arrived at dawn, they erected the crosses that stand on my lawn. They searched the rafters for guns and ammunition as they recited the bible and outlined their mission. “The manifesto” they screamed, “is broadcast live” so there is no need to form a crowd outside.

They shackled the young, they shackled the old, we shuffled our feet and wept in the cold. They marched us to the sound of cracking bones, warping metal and mobile phones. The Flag flew high and we all saluted, our new boss is here, undisputed.

The rumble of trucks sang into the black as I curled in a ball and prayed at the back and I remembered watching the challenger crash and fall to earth in flames and ash and some fell at a crossroads and we began to slow so they started to punish us blow by blow until each head was scarlet and bruising black and one girl stumbled and we were pushed to go back till she was trampled beneath us and lay in the sun but we carried on walking for fear of the gun.

I didn’t say anything I was afraid. We dare not speak in the final parade no singing in the line as we followed in sync we looked straight ahead and tried not to think but I thought of the sea and I longed for the sand and I dreamt of your voice and I ached for your hand to lift me up each time I stumbled as the black smoke rose and the trucks still rumbled.

There was nothing now just the road all planned out and we walked forever and I began to doubt the life I’d led before they came so safe so warm so blank so tame. Like wolves we tread into the fields and in naked envy of what the river feels as it defies command and snakes away regardless of what kings and madmen say.

The sky is toxic the ground decayed the special announcement has been delayed so nobody was sure were to go we just fixed our gaze on the dirt below.