at ease

This city is full of police, with hearts
that sweep the floor. Those stretchy little things have too much room.
They would not lift their eyes, paperweights soldered on.
This city is full of church bells acting like you
when you banged on my door at four thirty-three AM,
lamp posts have guns for bulbs and cracked hands
are in place of happiness. Now is not a time for words.

The pavement looks darker
than usual and the clouds, they scuttle
through the sky, picking up pace
opening, so the stars can speak

and they say -
'in November we stole your best friend, your mother,
your daughter, we stole your lover

just because we could.'
They smile as wooden doors slam shut and pencils I cannot catch
fall out of my mouth.

Today feels like cold bones and rotting park benches,
it feels like the day I said 'see you later,
Babe'  to you, a boy with goodbye lips
and dirt coloured hair. Televisions click
on/off and cameras try too hard to soak up compassion

like the 400 people stood in a line can be captured,
this air
cannot be recycled.  

I just wanted to tell you that
I have seen tears are escaping
from the walls, they are prison cells, you see
and we are in the wrong place.