Well, I’d fight, too,
Boxed inside a block of flats
Brocken down and ignored
In Clapham, South London.
I’ve seen it all
Narrated Grandma Bernie who lived
Two doors down, bound to her armchair
Until the next visit from her caregiver.
Will grow here to know
Struggle without a hand to help
And yelp without an ear to hear.
Ghosts will make their bedding in the pissy stairways.
These children wielded by weaponry;
Shielded by whom?
Left to die.
The flats will never change
Passers-by will gander –
Never to speak of what they’ve seen.
Because it is easier to live in silence.
* * *