Grimbeau

Today is soundless, voiceless, no tunes, no printed word. Just the hissing cars and the heavy droplets plashing on the path, the hum of the drones, white wax burr, ear stodge, and the wireless ghostly common room below…

‘We cannot muddle on like this,’ you discern the jabber, groan and wince. Whose muddle? Eton or Harrow, Seychelles or Maldives, Cumberbatch or Merlin?

‘We cannot muddle on like this. No. We cannot…’

So on they charming chant, they never stop until the timer says so.

Today is soundless, voiceless, no tunes, no printed word.

The hisses quicken, grow more urgent.

A door slams. Does frenzy erupt?

Alarm is tangible, like ice.

Where are they all going?

Work, school, shopping, buildings, fields, aeroplanes, ships, trains, to meet, to avoid: to do normal things. I burn and rage at the thought, they cannot hear, no-one can but me, here, now, feeling chagrined, let…