First Draft

September 25, 2011

It was after the Tottenham Riots
and after the trouble at work , after the cuts
and Syria, Ethiopia,
the island massacre,
the death of the singer,
the dancing,
at the carnival.

The day after she came back home
we drank tea in her kitchen
poured from a saucepan
boiled on a stove.

We walked down her quiet street.
Small leaves, heaped into crevises.
A ladybird settled on her shoulder.

It was the day after they discovered
that time travel
might be possible.

We ate lunch, lemonade and cups of tea.
Light pressed in against the windows,

after the deaths and the riots,
as we sat in her kitchen;
the day after particles
broke every rule.


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