Written by Liz Adams on Tuesday the 22nd of November 2011
I fill the house with voices -
the radio is on, somewhere
inside this Midlands town
a man lies face down,
his death circling him like a crow.
Tomorrow will be easier -
time is the great healer,
there is a Christ on every hill.
Find the nearest citadel
and you'll see that beauty
is universal as is the man.
I fry some bacon in the pan.
I am a good wife, heart
rife with jealousy, the children
at my legs with need.
Tomorrow they'll bring his body back
dress in black, forget our names,
our lives will judder on the same,
the cars, the planes lifting through
a freezing sky - a hum
in the curtains as I turn in bed tonight.