Carry On (After the Attack)
the man unfolds, foetal
inches from your cleated foot
under total cloud
darkening to black
the twist that rises
when plastic burns
but you carry on, through wood smoke
& rice-vapour
under the hot column
of an extractor
churning
the dripping cook leans
into cigarettes
& updates
and oh how he bleeds
invisibly, within
where the shattered shaft
cuts deep into muscle
& people
look down
mobiles at their ears
hoping, wishing
for fast sirens
& trained hands
to take from them
the burden of decency
and yes, I sense what moves you
not the pain of others
not the bleeding nails
of those who claw
at up-turned hulls
nor the binary decision
to jump or wait
no, you carry on
you’ve every right
we must all carry on
but I watched you in the bookshop
the second-hand bookshop
looking at crooked towers
of second-hand emotion
dust on your fingertips
dust on your lips
the discarded clues
to another’s imagination
& for the first time
you found nothing
nothing
the appetite for fantasy
dead
ah look now, how
the sun slides
into a silvered rent
the street is purified
the stains
will not remain the bridges
will grow barriers our lines
will be separated we
will keep safe.
Philip Berry’s poems have appeared in Lucent Dreaming, Deracine, Lunate Fiction and The Healing Muse. He also write short fiction and CNF. His work can be explored at http://www.philberrycreative.wordpress.com or @philaberry. He lives in London.