After a catastrophe

After a catastrophe

But before it becomes an apocalypse,

When people are

Covered in dust and blood

Unable to form a coherent sentence

For all the world like

Extras from The Walking Dead

Surrounded by smoke as yellow as mustard gas

Grey ash falling like snow

Every noise muffled

By the echo of sirens

Lost children

Wailing mothers

Abandoned buses

Cars parked randomly

Over broken pavements,

Before all that,

When ear drums are perforated

And shop windows are busted

But the widescreens

Are still on display

The high-end clothes

Are still draped over

Featureless manikins,

Somebody will call it a hoax

And go about their business

Stealing cars,

Dipping from the pockets of corpses

Refusing to follow the rules

As is their god given right

So to do,

A film crew

Making a documentary

About urban decay

Caught up

In the aftermath

Will be first on the scene

And report

On the news

As if it were a movie,

But before all that.

The guy who stands on the street

With a placard

Predicting ‘the end is nigh’

And waving his bible

Is up on his toes

Running like the clappers

With a told-you-so smile

On his face

A monkey on his back

A rocket up his arse

A man on fire

Then.