In the night,
waking into desolation,
it’s no one’s fault
that the wind has
forgotten
her
and me. Black rain –
on that last day
made believers
of us- gun turrets,
concrete waterfront,
harshness welling up
before the random time.
No comparisons-
but it’s all been done
before; someone has to die
today, why not her?
Because. Pausing
at field gates with cows,
a lovely boy’s
hand in hand with hers,
her birthday smile – ‘I’m happy!’
what can go wrong?

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